


The Compass in Our Hearts

by Squeaky



Series: I'll Point You Home [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Completely fake eastern European countries, Dubious soulbond related pseudo-science, F/M, Hurt Vision (Marvel), Pietro is a good bro, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, This took me over a year to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: Wanda has felt her soulmate through their soulbond since birth - until the terrible day that she doesn't. He's rejected her and she doesn't know why. Despite how black her soulmarks have remained, she's sure her soulmate is gone for good. She knows she'll be broken-hearted forever.Jonas has felt his soulmate since he was four - until the terrible day his soulbond explodes in excruciating pain and he ends up in hospital. Despite evidence to the contrary he's sure his soulmate is dead. He knows he'll be broken-hearted forever.Luckily for them both however, Ana's a great mom and Pietro's a great brother. And both of them have access to a map.





	The Compass in Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> With the most massive thanks to my beta [ Taste_is_Sweet ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet) for making this sound so much better. I am the luckiest writer on AO3 to get her help.
> 
> The title is taken from the absolutely addictive[ Thousand Years ](https://youtu.be/2NZgzGg3oc8) by the Diviners. Give it a listen. You won't be disappointed.
> 
> This story took me over a year to write because apparently that's my time-line for this series now. While I feel that this story is pretty much stand-alone, aspects may make more sense if you read the other stories in the series, especially the one that came right before: "Drawing a Map of the Universe."
> 
> And in case you don't want to go back and read the first fic in this series: "Following the Map That Leads to You" for more context, please note that Tony Stark is a surgeon in this AU, which is why he's referred to as Doctor.
> 
> * * *

Four-year-old Wanda Maximoff sat at the kitchen table in their apartment in Sokovia, eating her cookie and giggling.

Her soulmate was having lunch and if she concentrated hard, she could taste the sandwich he was eating along with the cookie her mommy had given her after their meal. His sandwich was meat and cheese, which tasted surprisingly good with the sweet, vanilla flavour of the cookie. It made her laugh. 

"What's so funny?" Pietro, her twin brother, asked. He hadn't finished his lunch when Wanda had, so he hadn't gotten his cookie yet and he was mad. He was poking at his soup with his spoon. 

"My soulmate is eating a sandwich." She grinned. "It tastes funny with my cookie."

"I want a cookie." Pietro scowled. 

Wanda's mother was looking at her strangely. "What did you say, _Mischa?_ "

"My soulmate is having lunch," Wanda explained. "It tastes funny." 

Her mother blinked at her. "You can _taste_ their lunch?"

"His lunch," Wanda corrected her. "He's a boy, _Mamica_ , remember?"

"He's always been a boy. A big stupid boy who speaks a stupid language that isn't Sokovian." Pietro huffed. He dropped his spoon on the table. "I don't want a cookie anymore. Can I go play?"

"How do you know this, Mischa?" Their mother put her ladle down and came to sit with them at the table. "How do you know he's a boy who's eating his lunch?"

"Because I can feel him," Wanda said.

"Because she can feel him," Pietro said at the same time. "Through her soulmarks."

"Through my soulmarks. That's how I know," Wanda agreed. She reached her hand behind her back to try to touch the English Words that ran from under her left shoulder to the middle of her ribs.

"Mamica!" Pietro whined. "Can I go play? _Please?_ " 

"Yes, of course." Their mother said absently and he dashed off. 

It made Wanda frown. Pietro hadn't eaten most of his soup and he hadn't cleared his plate either, both of which were very good reasons for Mamica to make him stay put. She opened her mouth to say so, but the expression in her mother's eyes stopped her. She was looking like she was scared and it made Wanda feel scared too. "Mamica?"

Her mother smiled brightly and Wanda felt a bit better. "I've just never heard of anyone feeling their soulmate like that. What else can you feel?"

Wanda sat up straighter. "I can feel when he eats, and when he's happy or when he's crying. Or if he hurt himself or if he's really sleepy," she said proudly. 

"Those sound like very nice things." The scared look faded from her mother's eyes. Wanda wiggled a little in her seat, so happy to have made her mother feel better. Her mother stroked Wanda's hair away from her face. "What else can you tell me? Do you know his name? Or where he lives?"

"I don't know his name." Wanda slumped a bit. She could feel him all the time, but she'd never thought about what his name might be. "Or where he lives, but they don't speak Sokovian there."

"I've never heard of anyone doing this," her mother said quietly. 

"But, you do this with _Tata,_ don't you?" Wanda said. Her Mamica and Tata were soulmates. She was sure they could taste each other's food and know what the other one was feeling. That's what soulmates did, wasn’t it? 

But her mother shook her head. "I've never felt your father like this," she said. "Even after we were married. I've never been able to feel him like you do this boy!" 

Wanda tilted her head. "You can't taste Tata's lunch?"

"No, Mischa. I didn't even know this was possible." Her mother licked her lips. "Does…does this ever frighten you?"

"No," Wanda said immediately. "My soulmate is very nice, Mamica. I like him a lot. I can hardly wait to meet him when I'm older." She beamed.

Her mother smiled back, relieved. "Well, his first Words to you are very romantic. Even if they are in English." Mamica had learned English in school before she met Tata because she was really smart. Her mother had promised to help Wanda learn English too, one day, so she could talk to her soulmate in case he didn't know Sokovian. 

"Tell me again, Mamica," Wanda said softly. She loved hearing her soulmarks. 

" _I will love you forever. Just tell me when to start,_ " her mother said in English before repeating it in Sokovian so Wanda could understand. She sighed. "So romantic." 

"So romantic," Wanda repeated. She wasn't quite sure what the word meant, but she liked the way her mother said it. She really wanted to meet her soulmate. "Mamica, can I _please_ try the map?" 

Her mother laughed. "Finding soulmates with a map is for older children. You're still too young, Mischa. When you're older."

"But I wanna be older now!" She loved watching her Tata play the map game, as he closed his eyes and repeated the soulmarks Mamica had put on him before they met. It didn't matter how she and Pietro moved the map before he opened his eyes, his finger always landed on Novi Grad. She wanted to do that and find her soulmate, too.

"When you're older," her mother repeated. "I promise. Now go play with your brother." 

"Okay," Wanda sighed. She hopped off her chair and went into the living room where her brother was building towers out of Lego before destroying them with his cars. She stood in the doorway and concentrated, reaching out to her soulmate through their link.

He reached back, a comforting presence even though he was so far away. 

_I'll find you when I'm older._ Wanda promised him. She went to join her brother.

* * *

"Hey, Vision! Kick it here!"

Jonas Jarvis looked up from where he'd been bouncing his football off the top of his foot and scowled. "Don't call me that, Braddock." 

School had ended over an hour ago, but it was still early in the year and the weather was nice, so Jonas and his mates had gone to the park to play some footie before they had to head home. But so far none of them had actually been arsed to start playing.

His best mate, Brian Braddock, laughed and Jonas relented and kicked the football to him. Brian did something fancy with his heel and sent the ball careening towards another boy. "Pete, heads up!" 

Pete Wisdom looked up from where he was texting on his mobile just in time to avoid getting smashed in the face. He ducked to the side and the football landed beside him, rolling to a stop several feet away.

"Aw, Pete, you wanker!" Brian threw up his hands. "Now who's gonna get it?"

Pete shrugged as he walked closer. "It was your cock-up of a kick. You get it."

"I'm knackered," Brian complained as he dropped onto the grass. "You get it." 

"Bugger off." Pete glared at him. "Why do I hafta?" He looked at Jonas. "Jo?"

Jonas shrugged. "You missed it."

"Fine." Pete rolled his eyes and dashed off towards the ball.

As soon as he left Brian stood up. "He's such a knob."

Jonas shrugged again. "Pete's all right." 

"For a knob."

Jonas laughed and knocked Brian in the shoulder. 

Brian knocked him back. "How's your girl, Vision? Still in nappies?" 

He and Brian had been best mates since they'd met in Year One. Brian was the first—and only—person that Jonas had ever told about his soulbond. It was the reason Brian had nicknamed him 'Vision,' which Jonas said he hated but sort of loved.

"Shut it." Jonas knocked him on the shoulder again. It caused Brian no end of mirth that Jonas' soulmate was still in primary school when they'd both moved to high school at the beginning of the year. "You're just whinging because you don't have any soulmarks yet."

"Neither do you," Brian laughed. "You're still bare as a baby's arse." 

It was true. Despite the power of Jonas' bond with his soulmate, he still didn't actually have her Words on his body. It didn't worry him too much, though. He could feel her so strongly already that he felt he'd know her as soon as he saw her. 

They both watched as Pete bent over to pick up the ball and accidently kicked it with his foot, sending it careening away. He swore and ran after it again.

Brian and Jonas both broke up laughing. "What a wanker!" Brian wheezed out in between guffaws.

"Be nice." Jonas nudged him again. 

"Why?" Brian eyed him. "You fancy Pete, yeah? Want to try him out before committing to your little sprog of a soulmate?" He started talking in a high voice, waving his hands around in a terrible imitation of a girl. "Oh, Vision!" he simpered. "You snog so well! Who taught you to kiss like that? I can hardly wait to shag you—"

"Shut it!" Jonas was laughing but he was also getting annoyed. His soulmate was far too young and far too sweet for the kind of shite Brian was saying. He went to push him but Brian danced away.

"Vision! Don't hurt me! It's my first time!" Brian called over his shoulder as he ran away, Jonas hot on his heels. 

"I'm going to kill you!" Jonas shouted after Brian as they ran. Brian ran right by Pete where he'd bent to pick up the ball and Brian kicked it out from under his hands. 

"Hey!" Pete yelled as Brian took off, still laughing.

Jonas doubled his efforts to catch his friend as they tore through the park. They were both fourteen but Jonas was taller, and he used his long legs to advantage. With a burst of speed, he overtook Brian. 

He was just about to grab him by the collar when something hit him hard enough to knock him off his feet. 

Only the thing that hit him wasn't from outside, it was _inside_. Something had happened to his soulmate. Something huge and ugly and very, very painful. He could feel it explode along his soulbond, like he'd slammed into a wall. His head, his chest, his _whole body_ felt like it was being torn apart. His entire being was flooded with _grief_ and _pain_ and a burning roar of _fear._ It blazed through him, burning him from the inside-out, turning his heart to ashes. 

Dimly he was aware of his head in Brian's lap, his friend's arms holding him, the sound of his own voice ragged and raw as he screamed with the agony coursing through him.

She was dying. His beautiful soulmate was dying, and he was dying right with her.

* * *

"Will he be all right?"

That was his father's voice. Jonas' eyes cracked open. His mother and father were standing by his bed with a man in a long white coat. _Doctor,_ his mind supplied. He was lying on a bed in a hospital room, and his mother and father were talking to a doctor. He had no idea how long he'd been there.

His eyes slid shut.

"He's been sedated and given pain medication to make him more comfortable," the doctor said. He spoke with a flat, American accent.

"Yes," his mother replied. "We know he's been sedated. But will he be all right?"

Jonas cracked his eyes open again. He could barely see his mother and father from where he was lying, as the doctor's back was blocking his view. He didn't feel all right. He felt drugged, like his brain was full of ice. But underneath the layers of freezing cold he could feel the molten river of his soulmate's pain. It would take nothing for the ice to melt and plunge him into the fiery depths of it. He'd be consumed by the flame. 

His eyes slid shut again. 

He was half-buried in rubble, trapped by its weight. It was pressing down on him, his chest, his head. His head _ached_ and there was something in his eyes. _What was wrong with his eyes?_ He tried to raise his hand to wipe his face and he couldn't move. He couldn't _breathe_ and all he could taste was blood…

His eyes flew open. 

"…Soulmate bond," the doctor said. 

"A broken soulmate bond is causing this?" his mother said. “How could you possibly know that?”

"It can't be from a soulmate bond," his father said. "He doesn't have any soulmarks!" 

_I don't need soulmarks,_ Jonas thought. He had his bond. His bond that was so strong sometimes he could experience the world his soulmate was living. He could taste her food, or feel her moods. Or her pain.

But he'd never told his parents that. 

He'd been able to feel her since he'd been four years old. But he'd only mentioned it to his parents precisely once, when he'd asked his father when he'd get to meet the baby girl he could feel in his heart. 

His father had looked at him strangely and then laughed. "Nice try, Jo-Jo," he'd said, "but you're not getting a baby sister that way," and he'd turned back to his paper. Jonas had tried to explain a second and then a third time until his father had finally gotten mad and sent him to his room. Jonas had never mentioned her again. 

"I wouldn't call it a broken soulbond exactly. More like a bond that's somehow been disrupted." Jonas couldn't see his face, but he could hear the frown in the doctor's voice as he spoke. "The condition is extremely rare and therefore not well understood, but we do know that your son's symptoms are congruent with what scant information we do have." 

"He collapsed in a park. Screaming!" his father said sharply. "His friend said it was like he'd been hit by a truck!"

“I understand that,” the doctor said. “But an extensive examination showed no physical cause for his symptoms. But I _am_ currently the foremost expert in soulbonds, and I believe the cause is completely soulbond-releated.”

"But it doesn't make sense." He could hear the confusion and the thread of panic in his mother's voice. "He doesn't have soulmarks. How can he have a—a disrupted bond without having a soulmate?"

"But he does have soulmarks," the doctor said.

Jonas blinked. He'd never known he had soulmarks. He could hear his parents' exclamations of shock at the doctor's words and immediately demand more information.

"Your background is Hungarian, yes?" 

Jonas heard his mother reply and saw the movement of the doctor's head as he nodded. 

"There's some evidence that people from Eastern European backgrounds may have their soulmarks form deeper in their body than people from more Western countries," the doctor said. 

"That's not true." his father protested. "Ana's soulmarks are on her thigh."

"It's not the same for every Hungarian," his mother said. "I have heard of this. When the soulmarks form but aren't visible." 

"It's true. We've even had anecdotal accounts of people from countries like Sokovia or Romania having died from their soulmarks forming too deep in their bodies, and then tearing their way to the surface of the skin." 

His mother gasped and clutched the doctor's wrist. "Is that what happened to Jonas?" 

"No," the doctor said quickly. "No that's not what I meant. What I wanted to say is that Eastern Europeans may have their soulmarks form inside their bodies instead of on the surface of their skin, and that's what happened with your son. In order to confirm my hypothesis, we scanned your son to identify the location of his soulmarks. This requires a specialized contrast dye and a full-body MRI scan to check and, as you'll see on that paper, we were able to get a relatively good picture of them." He handed Jonas' parents the sheets of paper he'd been holding.

He could hear the rustling of papers as his parents held up the sheets and the pause as they read his Words silently to themselves. Jonas wanted to know where they'd found his Words inside his body. He wanted to know what they said, but it was too hard to make his tongue move to speak. His eyes slid shut again.

Jonas opened his eyes to the sound of his father's voice. "But they're white."

"That's the result of the dye," the doctor explained. "The dye shows up lighter where it attaches to the particular biological markers found in soulmarks. The darker areas are the anatomical structures underneath it." 

"Does white…" his mother took a breath. Her next words were barely audible. "Is his soulmate dead?" 

"We don't know," the doctor said equally as quietly. "We can't tell the colour of the soulmarks from the scan, only that he has them. They could be black. Or, they could be…not." 

His father cleared his throat. "If his soulmate were dead," he started. "If they were dead, would that explain his pain?"

"Yes, it might. The results of his bloodwork were very high for soulbond-related enzymes. We normally only see these levels when there’s been an issue with a soulbond. Such as when one member of the bonded pair dies,” the doctor said. “I'm sorry."

Jonas' eyes closed again, but this time from despair. He didn't need to hear the doctor's words to know the truth. She was dead. That's why it hurt so badly. His soulmarks really were white. It wasn't from the dye, it was because they'd gone silver after she'd died. She'd died and all that was left was the burning pain from where her soul had ripped away from his. He could feel the tears, persistent and hot, as they seeped from beneath his lids. 

The doctor and his parents were still talking, but Jonas wasn't listening anymore. He was mourning the loss of the love of his life. The other half of his heart. His soulmate whom he'd never meet and whose death was carving him apart. He could feel the agony of her absence like a gaping wound just below the ice the medications had put into his veins. 

_I need the ice everywhere,_ he thought. He imagined the ice sliding through his body, coalescing in his chest, freezing around his heart and penetrating right to his soul. 

He pretended he was making a wall with it, blocking him from the terrible remains of his soulmate. He couldn't feel her terror, loss, fear or pain anymore. He couldn't feel her at all. His sweet and loving soulmate was gone. He was alone. 

He fell asleep, crying.

* * *

Wanda woke with a start. 

The room was dark, lit only by the small screens of the medical devices placed strategically by her bed. Her hospital bed. She'd never been in hospital, but she recognized where she was immediately. There were wires connecting her to the quietly-beeping machines and tubes feeding liquid directly into her veins. 

She had no idea how she had gotten there. 

The last thing she remembered was eating dinner with her family, and then…and then. Her mind stuttered to a halt. 

There had been a bomb. _A bomb_ had come _through the wall_ and smashed into the kitchen. _And her parents--_

Pietro had been with her. She craned her neck around but the small room was empty except for her bed and the machines. Her brother was nowhere in sight. 

The machine was beeping in triple-time, her heart pounding so fast that it felt like she couldn't breathe. Desperately, frantically, she dove inside herself, reaching for the link that she shared with her soulmate. He'd been there for her since the moment she was born: A constant presence that always comforted her, made her feel calm, safe, and loved. 

There was nothing there. 

She reached again, and again, but where she should have felt his warmth she felt only freezing, impenetrable cold, like running her fingers over a solid wall of ice. 

He was gone. Her soulmate was gone. Her parents were dead and she didn't know where her brother was. And her soulmate was _gone._

She started screaming.

* * *

Jonas sat in front of his computer, feeling like crying. 

It was his usual state when he reviewed and posted his photographs to his Instagram account. He'd called it Vision after the nickname Brian had given him so many years ago. He wasn't sure he still deserved it, but nothing else seemed to fit. 

It was stupid that his own photographs affected him that much, but he was always surprised by how much sadness he'd ended up capturing when he'd just been aiming to take a nice snap.

Like his most recent one. He'd gone down to the Thames to photograph the London Eye from the South Bank. There'd been a little girl looking through the barricade at the Eye across the river. She'd been in a rose coloured coat, and the contrast between the grey colours of the barricade, the river and the sky, and her bright jacket had struck him so he'd taken the photo. 

Only after he posted it did he realize how tragic the picture was, with the little girl yearning to go up on the ferris wheel but only able to look at it from afar. 

She reminded him of his soulmate, who'd been around that age when she died. The girl's longing for the ferris wheel felt like his longing for his soulmate: deep and bleak and endless. 

He swiped angrily at his tears and focused on his screen, adjusting the contrast of the photo until it had the right levels of light and dark, colour and endless grey. 

He posted it and sat back in his chair, feeling scraped raw and empty. And he had at least 12 more photos to post. 

"Bollocks," he muttered to himself. Sometimes he hated the fact that he'd taken up photography, but it'd been one of the only things that had kept him going after he'd lost his soulmate. He'd started posting them at Brian's suggestion, and to his surprise they'd become popular enough that the income from his prints had helped pay for his university. If he was lucky, he'd be able to turn it into a real job one day. 

And if he was really lucky, maybe one day he'd be able to look at his own pictures without crying. 

He took a deep breath and pulled up the next one.

* * *

Wanda looked up from her laptop and smiled broadly as her twin and a beautiful, dark-haired woman came into the cafe. "Pietro!" she said happily, "Skye! It's so good to see you." She stood and embraced them both, giving her brother an extra-tight hug.

Both Skye and Pietro sat. Pietro immediately stretched his long legs out in front of him, bumping her ankle as he did. Wanda gazed adoringly at her twin brother. They'd been separated at the age of ten, after a bomb had killed their parents. Pietro had gone to a refugee camp in Latveria and Wanda had ended up in an American hospital in Germany. She'd been adopted by a doctor and her husband and brought to New York. It had taken over nine years for Wanda and Pietro to find each other again, and she still ached for every moment they'd spent apart. 

"This place is cute," Skye said admiringly as she looked around. "I've lived in New York for almost five years and I didn't know this café existed." Wanda had arranged to meet in a little coffee shop halfway between the apartment her brother shared with his guardian and the Manhattan condo she lived in with her parents. She'd gotten there early to secure them seats, and ostensibly to do some work for her university courses. It was October and midterms would be starting soon, but she'd gotten distracted.

"I'm glad you like it." Wanda smiled at her. "But honestly I just found it on Yelp. I have no idea if the coffee's any good or not." 

Skye laughed. "At least it looks like the drinks should be tasty." 

"I will buy them," Pietro said magnanimously. "Do you still like chocolate as much as you used to?"

Wanda nodded enthusiastically as she reached for her wallet. "Here. I'll pay." 

Pietro shook his head. "I know your adopted parents are very rich, but my new job at the hospital pays me fairly well. You can buy next time." He bent down and kissed Skye on her crown before sauntering up to the counter.

Skye watched him admiringly. "I know he's your brother, but I still have to pinch myself when I remember that gorgeous man is my soulmate." 

Wanda grinned at her but then made a face. "Yes, I can see that he is handsome now. But, ew." 

Skye laughed, but then her expression turned thoughtful. "Is it weird? I mean…"

"Being with him again after such a long time?" Wanda finished for her. "Yes," she replied honestly. "My memory of him is of a young boy, and now…." she gestured to where Pietro was smiling as the man behind the counter got their drinks. "He is very much a grown man, and he's lived so much of his life with me knowing nothing about it." She smiled but she knew it was sad. "I would give anything to have those years back." 

Skye gently grasped Wanda's wrist. "I'm so sorry you guys had to go through that." 

Wanda's smile faltered at the sympathy in Skye's expression. Skye was thinking only of what it would've meant for her and Pietro to be apart, but Wanda couldn't help but think of the other huge losses in her life. The death of her parents, and then the complete loss of her soulmate. 

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and forced a smile back to her lips. "Thank you, but we are together again and that is all that matters." She had her brother back. It would have to be enough.

Pietro chose that moment to reappear with their drinks and placed one in front of each woman with his usual flair. "Hot chocolate," he said grandly as he put the cup in front of Wanda, "and a latte with two shots of expresso." He smiled at Skye with so much love that Wanda felt her heart melt. She was so happy that her brother had found his soulmate. 

He dropped himself into the seat next to Wanda and took a sip of his drink. "So, how is school?" He smirked.

Wanda rolled her eyes at him. "Second year is definitely twice as hard as first year, and it's barely started, thanks for asking. You should feel very lucky that you have until January before you have to sacrifice your life to the gods of academia."

Pietro laughed. "And here I was feeling bad about having to take night school." 

"Ugh." Skye shook her head. "I hated math enough during the day. I can't believe you have to take it at night." 

"I do if I want to secure my place in health sciences in January. My grades from high school were okay, but…" Pietro shrugged. 

"Don't remind me that I'm dating a teenager." Skye rolled her eyes. "I feel like a cradle-robber already." 

"You were not complaining about my age last night…"

Wanda nearly choked on her drink as Pietro cackled at Skye's expression.

"So," Skye said to Wanda, "as much as I'd love to talk about my sex life with your brother in front of you, I feel a desperate need to change the subject. What were you looking at when we came in?"

"Oh, just some photos on Instagram." Dutifully Wanda turned her laptop around so they could see the images. For some reason it made her blush. 

Both Pietro and Skye didn’t notice. They were riveted on the images as Skye scrolled through the pages. 

"Wow," Skye said after a full two minutes without speaking. She flicked her dark eyes to Wanda's. "These photos are incredible." 

"I know," Wanda said softly. She pulled the laptop over so she could look at the screen with them. "He has a real gift." 

"Definitely." Pietro was still staring at the pictures on the screen. "These photos. They are beautiful." 

Wanda nodded as she gazed at the image on her computer. It was a picture of a little girl in a pink coat looking through the gaps in a stone wall at the London Eye. The picture was infused with a powerful sense of longing and sadness and Wanda felt herself blinking back a sudden rush of tears.

The other images were similar in tone and composition. Somehow the photographer had turned typical tourist shots of London into photographs of infinite sadness and breathtaking beauty. He made London look like a city you needed to visit, even while it broke your heart. 

"Who is this guy?" Skye asked as she moved to the next image. It was Big Ben taken at an angle that highlighted the age of the structure, making it look noble and terribly weary at the same time. "He's amazing. It is a guy, right?" 

Wanda nodded. "His Instagram name is Vision."

"His stuff is unbelievable," Skye said. "Thoughtful and moving and sad and…" She looked up at Wanda. "How'd you find him?"

Wanda blushed again. "I came across his page by accident." It wasn't exactly true. She'd woken up with a strange compulsion to Google 'sad pictures of London' and Vision's Instagram page was one of the first to pop up.

Pietro caught her blush and eyed her curiously. Even after ten years apart he could still read her like a book. She looked away.

"Well I'm going to tell Bucky about this guy as soon as I get into work," Skye said, turning back to his photos. "Stark Industries is looking for a photographer to do a better job taking pictures at their major events. I think we've found him." 

"His stuff is very good." Pietro nodded. "But I'd like to look at something else now. His photos are too..." He made a vague gesture. 

Wanda nodded in agreement, knowing what her brother meant. It was like 'Vision' knew that tragedy was just beneath everything in life, no matter how beautiful it looked on the surface. 

"I'm sure he can make things look happy, too. An artist that good must have more depth to him." Skye took Pietro's hand and he pulled her close and kissed her. It was a short kiss, but so sweet and tender it made Wanda's heart hurt. 

Her soulmate had abandoned her. She'd never have what Skye and Pietro shared. 

She turned her laptop around to look at Vision's Instagram again, marveling at the depths of emotion his photos contained. It was like he knew exactly how Wanda felt: like the grief of losing her soulmate permeated everything.

It made things feel a bit better somehow, knowing that Vision was somewhere in London, sharing her pain.

She wondered what had happened to him that had broken his heart.

* * *

"Are you going to take the job?"

Jonas looked up from where he'd been reviewing his latest photos on his computer and frowned at his mother. "What?"

His mother shook her head fondly. "The job with Stark Industries. Are you going to take it?" She moved further into his room and put down the basket of laundry she'd been holding. "Doctor Stark is a very important man. It's very impressive that he chose you to be his photographer."

Jonas smiled at his mother's words. "It wasn't exactly Doctor Stark that offered me the contract," he said. "And I wouldn't be the only photographer. They actually have an entire PR department. I'd just be one of many." 

"They want you to be the official photographer for their special events." She raised her eyebrows at him. "That doesn't sound like just one of many. And I remember what that Ms. Potts said in her email, that your portfolio was extremely impressive and showed a maturity beyond your years." 

He shrugged. "I'm sure they're just being kind." 

"And I’m sure you're just being stupid." 

He looked at her.

"You are too modest! Your work is beautiful and you know it. Everything you photograph is beautiful."

"You have to say that. You're my mother." 

"I may be your mother but I’m not blind." She put her hands on his shoulders. "Jonas, your work is beautiful. You've been selling your photos steadily since you were sixteen years old. It's no wonder that Stark Industries wants to hire you." 

He huffed out a short laugh. "Ta."

"I tell the truth," she said. "They'd be lucky to have your talent. So, are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure." He turned back to his screen. "New York's rather far away."

"Now, that's an excuse if I ever heard one!" She bopped him gently on the head when he didn't look up. "Jonas! You should go to New York." 

He turned to face her, a half-smile on his lips. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Of course not. It's just that it's New York. A chance to explore one of the world's greatest cities!"

He raised an eyebrow. "I live in London."

"And I lived in Budapest before your father met me. But I still went to London, because not all cities are the same. You should go to New York."

"You went to London for love," Jonas said. He suddenly became very interested in his desk. 

She began to stroke his hair, a gesture he'd found comforting since he'd been a small boy. "Maybe you'll find love in New York," she said softly. 

He shook his head. "There's nothing to find." 

"You don't know that," she said, insistent as ever. "Your soulmate—"

"—Is dead." He pulled back from her. 

His mother's mouth thinned. "You don't know that," she repeated. "The doctor said your soulbond was disrupted. Not broken. He never said she was dead." 

"He said she might be. And I felt it," Jonas said softly. He'd had this argument with his mother countless times over the last nine years, and it hurt just as much each and every time. "I felt her die."

His mother sighed. "I know how it felt. I saw how much pain you were in, and it was the worst thing I could imagine. But your Words—"

"Don't mean anything," Jonas cut her off. He was getting angrier as his mother kept speaking. Why wouldn't she understand?

"But we could use the map!" his mother said, exasperated. "You could say the Words and point at the map and then you'd know where she was. If you'd just let me tell you—" 

"I don't want to know my Words!" Jonas shouted. "She was just a child when she died! The most perfect angel and she's dead. I'll never meet her. I don't want to ever hear her Words said by anyone else. I don't want to know!"

"But what if she's alive?" His mother tried again. "What if she survived whatever tragedy struck her, and now you're the one keeping the two of you apart?"

"Don't you think I want that to be true? I've wanted that every single day for the last nine years!" He shook his head. "But there’s nothing there.” Nothing but an ice-cold sensation where the bright warmth of his soulbond used to be.

"Oh Jonas," his mother said sadly. "You've still felt nothing? After all this time?"

"Nothing," Jonas said. He grimaced. 

She held out her arms. "Come here." Obediently he stood and stepped into her embrace. She hugged him tightly. "You're so tall now," she said. The top of her head barely reached his jaw. 

He grinned. "You're just tiny." But then his face fell. "I miss her so much," he said softly. "Our bond…I knew her so well, and I loved—" he broke off, closing his eyes against the pain in his heart. It felt exactly the same as it did so many years ago: like he'd been stabbed deep in the chest and had never stopped bleeding.

"I am so sorry, _Kedvesem_." She used the Hungarian term of endearment she'd called him since he was small. "You were so young when you lost her. I am so sorry." 

They held each other, and Jonas let his mother's love for him ease a bit of the ache in his chest. It would never be okay, but at least he had this.

She sighed. "I will miss you when you go to New York." 

"You really think I should go?" He rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling strangely nostalgic for when he was a small boy and he could cuddle up against her the way she was cuddled against him now. Things were so much simpler then, when he was young and his soulmate was alive and the future didn't feel quite so…empty.

"Yes," she said simply. 

"I'll sleep on it," he said.

* * *

"You look gorgeous."

Wanda looked over her shoulder to smile at her adopted mother, and then looked at herself in the mirror again, frowning. "You think so?" 

"Absolutely." Magda nodded firmly. "The dark blue really suits your colouring and makes your eyes look huge." She lifted Wanda's thick wavy hair and twisted it so it was off her shoulders in a loose updo. "Do this with your hair and borrow those long silver earrings of mine. You'll look perfect."

Magda had taken Wanda to Barney's on Madison Avenue to shop for ball gowns. They were going to the extremely exclusive Maria Stark Memorial Hospital Charity Ball that was being held the first week of November. Magda, Wanda and her husband, Max, had been invited specifically because Dr. Stark, the CEO of the hospital, had been wooing Magda to come work for them for the last two years. Dr. Stark wanted Magda for her skills as a plastic surgeon, but Wanda's mother wasn't sure she wanted to make the move. Her private clinic and the hospital where she worked were close to where they lived in Midtown Manhattan, and Maria Stark would be a longer commute.

But she'd admitted to Wanda that she was tempted, which was why they were spending more money than usual on their dresses. Magda wanted to look like a million bucks so Dr. Stark would know how successful she was without her having to say a word. 

Wanda had felt a bit sick at the prices of the dresses, even though her adopted parents were wealthy, it was still hard for her to relax completely into their luxurious lifestyle. She'd promised herself that she'd wear the same one to her university's semi-formal and to her graduation dance in fourth year. And probably to her brother's eventual wedding if she had to. Hell, she'd get married in it as well if necessary, to make the price more reasonable. Not that she was ever getting married. 

She grimaced, wishing she could have just one day where thoughts of her long-gone soulmate didn't put a damper on everything.

"So, are we getting the blue?" her mother's question broke Wanda out of her dark reverie. 

Wanda took in the dress. It was a lovely dark blue cloth with a high back that fell into a cowl neck in the front, showing just enough cleavage to be interesting. It was fitted through the waist and skimmed her hips, landing somewhere around her ankle in soft ripples of fabric. It did indeed make her green-blue eyes look fantastic. Her mother let her hair down and stood back. 

"You really do look lovely."

Wanda licked her lips. "I prefer the red."

"You mean the one with the low back?"

Wanda nodded. 

"But your whole back shows," Magda said. 

"I know," Wanda said. "But the colour looks great on me, and the length will make it easy to dance in and I can show off my new shoes—"

"You do look incredible in red," her mother cut off her rambling. "And yes, it's a great length, but Wanda, it shows your soulmarks. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"I know," Wanda said again. There was an unwritten rule that soulmarks should be kept private, at least until the soulmates had met and there could be no confusion with other people purposely saying their Words. Not everyone followed that rule. Skye had let the world read the 'you're welcome' on her right forearm, and even Pietro had only covered the 'thank you' on his left palm half the time. But Magda, and her husband Max, were more traditional. Wanda knew her adopted parents would prefer for her to keep her marks covered. 

But she didn't have a soulmate anymore, no matter how dark her marks still were. It didn't matter if they showed or not. 

And maybe Wanda _wanted_ them to be seen. To show the Universe that she just didn't care anymore. That she was tired of waiting for someone who was never going to return. She took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain that to Magda.

"He still might be out there," Magda said softly, putting her arm around Wanda's shoulders. She'd been able to read Wanda so well, even before they'd officially became mother and daughter. She'd understood without Wanda having to say anything. "There's no reason to give up on him."

Wanda shook her head. "He's gone, mom. And no amount of wishing or hoping is going to bring him back." An image of the girl in the pink coat came to her mind: a picture of longing that was never going to end. She didn't want to be like that girl. "I think showing my marks is the right thing to do."

"I think a lot of people will take one look at you in that dress and say your marks to get you out of it," her mother said wryly. Her expression grew concerned. "Wanda, it's your body. Even if you weren't already an adult, it would still be your choice if you wanted to show your soulmarks or not. But having people who aren't your soulmate say them to you is going to hurt." 

"It hurts already," Wanda said quietly. "If they're said, or not said. It hurts the same." 

"Sweetheart." Magda pulled Wanda close and hugged her. "I would do anything to take away this pain." 

Wanda held her mother tightly. She was a few inches taller than her mother but she still felt enveloped by Magda's hug. She'd never stop missing her biological mother, but she was so grateful that the Universe had brought them together. "I love you, Mommy." 

"I love you too, Panda," her mother said, using the nickname she'd had since she'd been adopted. She sighed and let Wanda go. "So, the red dress?"

Wanda nodded. 

"Okay," Magda said on an exhale. "But you have to explain it to your father."

* * *

The Maria Stark Memorial Ball was exactly as advertised: the most exclusive event of the year for New York's rich and famous, and they certainly dressed the part. 

Jonas fiddled with the strap of his camera where it hung clumsily around his neck. He'd chosen to forgo a jacket and tie because he knew his camera would get caught in the extra fabric, so he'd just worn a white dress shirt over a pair of tapered black dress pants. What had seemed like a dressy-enough combination in the mirror of his bedroom in the fancy apartment Stark Industries had rented for him looked severely out-of-place among the glitterati at the Ball. Jonas grimaced to himself. He looked like a bloody waiter. 

The Ball was being held on one of the grand upper floors of Stark Tower. The main room was huge, with beautiful highly polished hardwood floors and huge glass windows that overlooked the beautiful skyline. The theme was 'To the Moon and Back,' and the room and surrounding alcoves were decked out in small white lights, gauzy star shapes and silver. There was a live band playing cool jazz on a stage in a corner, and several couples were dancing, elegant and timeless. The whole place looked like a cross between a 1950s sci-fi film, a 1940s musical and a little girl's dream bedroom. 

It looked like something his soulmate would've loved. 

He swallowed against the thickness in his throat, once again cursing the underlying sadness that he could never seem to shake. 

A real waiter came by, wearing almost the same outfit he was and gave him a double-take when he reached for one of the flutes of champagne she was holding. 

He smiled his thanks at her and took a sip. It was sharp and sweet and as rich as the surroundings around him. When Ms. Potts had brought him up to the floor, she'd told him to mingle and eat and drink 'just like a guest.' Jonas was six-foot-three-inches tall, but in her heels, Ms. Potts’ head topped his shoulders. She was cool and confident and amazingly beautiful, and he'd tried to seem worldly and like he had a right to be there with everyone else, but he was sure he'd failed miserably. 

She'd smiled at his obvious nervousness, patted his arm and told him that she and Dr. Stark were really looking forward to seeing his photographs of the event. 

Then she'd left him alone, under-dressed and awkward beneath the twinkling lights. 

"Buck up," he muttered to himself. He might feel like a bloody wanker but he'd been hired for a reason. He knew his snaps were brilliant; time to make Ms. Potts happy that she'd hired him. He hoisted his camera to his face and looked around, immediately breaking out into a smile. The setting was gorgeous and the people were stunning. The photos were going to practically take themselves.

He saw a couple on the dance floor: a tall, blond man was swaying gently with his brunet partner, their temples touching as they moved to the music. They were nearly the same height and both equally as handsome. The brunet had shoved up the sleeves of his tuxedo, and he moved back from his partner just enough to rest his hand on the junction between the blond's neck and shoulder. His hand was obviously made of metal, and it glinted silver and white in the lights. It was like the two of them were as much a part of the surroundings as the gauzy stars. Equally as beautiful and futuristic. 

Jonas took the picture, and then two more as the blond man smiled into his partner's eyes and bent down to kiss him. Jonas smiled as well as he watched through his lens, feeling the intense love between the two men. He lowered his camera and looked at the images on the screen and his smile broadened. The pictures were perfect, and for once they didn't make him want to cry. He hoped that was a good sign.

He wondered at the man's metal hand for a moment, and then remembered that the Ball was raising money to help distribute Stark Industries prosthetics to underprivileged children and youth worldwide. It made sense that the prosthetics themselves would be in view here. He wondered if the two men were minor American celebrities. They certainly were handsome enough for it.

He took more pictures: A couple on the balcony, her head of bright red hair on her partner's broad shoulder as they gazed at the city; a man and woman were laughing together at the bar. He had a neat dark goatee and a small gap between his front teeth, and his eyes were deep brown and crinkled as he smiled down at the woman at his side. She turned her face towards him, her blue eyes shining. 

Jonas took a picture of an older man and woman admiring the ice sculptures together. She was small with dark hair and dark eyes, while he was tall and severely handsome, with a shock of pure white hair and a no-nonsense air in direct contrast to the friendly warmth exuding from his partner. But the way he looked at her showed their obvious love. They were a perfect match.

Jonas sighed. All the couples were perfect matches. It was like every soulmate pair with money was at the Ball tonight and he was in the corner, watching from a distance. He could look but never touch. 

He took a few pictures of the décor, then a few more of the bartenders working and the waiters bringing out the canapés to the guests. He sighed again and checked the time. It was only ten-thirty and the Ball was set to go until at least one a.m., and he knew that Ms. Potts would expect him to stay to the very end. 

Speaking of Ms. Potts… He saw her, stunning in a blue silk floor-length gown, talking quietly with Dr. Stark, who looked very dapper in his black tuxedo. They were laughing quietly, and as obviously as much in love as the other couples Jonas had seen tonight. Even his boss had found her soulmate. Jonas let out yet another long breath as he took a few photos of them. He checked the display on his camera to make sure his melancholy hadn't started infecting the snaps. Even though Ms. Potts hadn't said anything about his style except to remark on its brilliance, he was sure she wouldn’t want her charity ball shot with a lens full of gloom. 

"So, you're the new photographer Ms. Potts hired."

Jonas turned to see the brown-haired man with the metal arm he'd just photographed. Beside him was his blond partner. The two of them were even more movie-star handsome up close, and it made Jonas want to self-consciously straighten his shirt. He stuck out his hand instead.

"Jonas Jarvis," he said, shaking the brunet's hand.

"James Barnes." His handshake was firm. "But you can call me Bucky. And this is my fiancé, Steve."

Steve stuck out his hand and Jonas shook it as well. "Nice to meet you." 

"You're from England, right?" Bucky said. "I remember my colleague Skye mentioning something like that." He grinned, the edges of his grey eyes crinkling. "Skye's actually the reason why you got hired." Bucky explained how Skye had seen his Instagram account and had thought that his style was exactly what Ms. Potts was looking for. "So, you might want to buy her a drink. If you like the job, that is," he finished. 

"I certainly shall." Jonas nodded. Not that he had a clue who Skye actually was. He'd only met a few other members of the PR department, and he was pretty sure Skye wasn't one of them. 

"Do you like New York?" Steve asked. 

"Is it really different than London?" Bucky titled his head. "My sister and I went to Paris a few years ago, and I remember it feeling really different than New York, but I've never been to your home town."

"It's fairly similar, actually," Jonas said, and the three men fell into an easy conversation about their cities of origin. It was friendly and pleasant, and idly Jonas started to wonder about how he might get their contact information and start the process of making some American friends. Steve was more reserved than Bucky, but both men were fun, intelligent and obviously open minded. They seemed easy to get to know. 

He was pondering how to broach the subject of exchanging mobile numbers and wondering if that was a done thing in America, when a flash of red caught his eye and he turned to look. 

His jaw dropped.

A young woman was walking towards them. She was tall, with a graceful, lithe figure draped in a red dress that showed off her shapely legs. Her long, chestnut-coloured hair was gently curled and framed her perfectly balanced, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were light, some shade that he couldn't possibly guess from a distance but he badly wanted to see. Her lips were turned up as she came nearer and at that second Jonas couldn't remember seeing anything in his whole life as beautiful as that smile. 

"Here." Jonas took his camera off his neck and passed it off to Bucky without even checking to see if he'd taken it. He started moving towards her, drawn to her by a force he couldn’t explain and couldn't fight even if he wanted to. She was like a flame, brilliant and so warm, and he was just a poor moth unable to pull away. His eyes were fixed on hers as he approached. They were a stunning shade of blue-green that immediately made him think of gemstones. 

She looked up, and her incredible eyes met his. He held her gaze, smiling. She smiled back, tentative but open, and Jonas said the first thing that came to his mind: 

"I will love you forever,” he said. “Just tell me when to start." He had never meant anything so much in his life. 

Her aquamarine eyes widened in surprise, but then immediately narrowed in anger. "How could you?" She cried, and before Jonas could react, she slapped him across the face, hard enough to turn his head and cause him to stumble back. She then turned away from him and ran, hair flying. 

Jonas took a step to follow, but stopped, hand against his heart. There was something wrong in his chest, as if something had shifted. It was like the feeling of ice cracking underfoot, but it was happening under his heart instead. And through the crack, he could sense a raw, brutal agony, sharp and deadly and strong enough to take his breath. 

"What the fuck just happened?" Bucky demanded. Then, "Hey, are you all right?"

Jonas opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He couldn’t breathe. Black spots formed in front of his eyes, darkening his vision. His knees buckled and he went down.

* * *

Wanda ran straight to Pietro.

Her brother embraced her without question, his strong arms circling her back, hiding her soulmarks from the world while she cried against his shoulder. 

She wished she'd never thought she'd be fine with displaying them. She wished she'd never gotten soulmarks. She wished they'd fade from black to silver and finally allow her to mourn the loss of the soulmate she'd never met. 

She wished she'd listened to her mother and just worn the damn blue dress.

"What's wrong, little Sister?" He asked her quietly in Sokovian. "Who do you want me to kill?"

She chuffed out a wet laugh. "You don’t need to kill anyone." 

"Whomever made you cry deserves to die," he said in a very reasonable tone of voice. "Just point me in the right direction." 

She laughed again and moved back so they could look at each other and answered him in the same language. "I'm okay now."

He wiped a tear from her cheek, a frown marring his handsome features. "You don't look okay." 

She shook her head. "I just feel so stupid." 

"Stupid? Why?"

"Because I wore this dress."

"You look beautiful in that dress." He smiled. "And besides, we match." It was true. Even without discussing what they were wearing, he'd ended up in a well-fitted black suit with a red tie in the same shade as her dress. Even after all their years apart they still shared the connection that all twins had. "Why do you feel stupid for wearing this beautiful dress?"

Sighing, she turned and lifted her hair so he had a clear view of her back, before returning to face him. 

Pietro's face creased with anger. "Did someone read your soulmarks off your back?"

Wanda nodded, wiping at her eyes. Her mother had told her that having someone read her soulmarks would hurt, but she hadn't realized just how bad it would feel. Hearing that man say her words had shocked her to her very soul. She’d slapped him before she’d realized she was going to do it; a completely visceral reaction to the pain he’d caused. In her wildest dreams she never could’ve imagined how terrible it would’ve been to hear them. 

"I'm going to fucking kill them," Pietro swore in English. 

"Who are we killing?" Skye came up behind Wanda, a drink in each hand. She handed the non-alcoholic one to Pietro who thanked her with a kiss. 

"We're not killing anyone," Wanda said, at the same time Pietro replied. "The person who said Wanda's soulmarks." 

Skye looked back and forth between the two of them, her long gold earrings swaying with the movement. She was wearing a simple and completely elegant black dress with her short hair held back with a series of gold pins. Her high heels put the top of her head at the tip of Pietro's ear. "Someone said Wanda's soulmarks? Isn't that a good thing?"

"No," both Wanda and Pietro said at once. 

"Okay, it's not a good thing," Skye said. Then she shook her head. "No, still not getting this. Why isn't it a good thing?"

Pietro glanced at Wanda, an obvious question in his eyes. She bit her lip. After her adopted parents, Pietro was the only one who knew about the lost bond with her soulmate, and he'd only found out when they'd reunited after nearly ten years apart. But Skye was Pietro's soulmate, and even though she'd known her for only a short time, Wanda trusted her. She nodded. 

"Wanda used to have a soulbond with her soulmate. But when she woke up in hospital after our parents—" Pietro cleared his throat. "After the bomb hit our apartment, the soulbond was gone. She doesn't have a soulmate anymore, so it's really upsetting for someone to read her Words."

"Wow." Skye's eyes had widened at Pietro's declaration. "Some guy read her Words? What a dick."

"Exactly." Pietro's mouth hardened. "And that's why I need to teach him a lesson." 

"For sure," Skye continued. "For him to read someone's Words, when they're silver and clearly show the soulmate's dead? That's got to be the most insensitive, most _offensive_ thing that I could think of someone doing. I just can't even—" 

"My Words aren't silver." 

Skye stopped her ranting. "They're not? But…didn't Pietro just say you didn't have a soulmate anymore because they were hit with a bomb?"

Wanda shook her head. "No, my family was hit by the bomb, but he wasn’t with me. Before that I could feel him all the time. But afterwards, it was like he'd just disappeared. I couldn't ever feel him again."

"He's not dead?"

"Not unless a soulmate can die and your Words can stay black," Pietro said. "Wanda's are still as black as they were when we were children." 

"Huh." Skye tilted her head. "Where are they? Can I see?"

"Here." Wanda turned and lifted her hair again so Skye had a clear view of her Words.

"Damn. That's romantic," Skye said admiringly. "And they are totally black." She frowned. "But you know, they're not actually that visible. Even with the low back of your dress." 

Both Wanda and Pietro protested at once. 

"I mean it," Skye said. "Maybe with your hair up they'd be easy to see, but with your hair down, the Words are mostly covered." She raised her eyebrows at Pietro.

"But he must have seen them," Wanda said. "Otherwise how could he have known what my Words were?"

Pietro blinked, then stared at Skye. "Wait. Is that possible?"

Skye shrugged. "He did say her soulmarks…" 

"What?" Wanda looked between Pietro and Skye. She couldn’t help but feel envious of the way they'd started to communicate with mostly facial expressions. "Is what possible?"

"What if he didn't actually read the Words off your back?" Skye said. 

"What?" Wanda repeated. Her heart sped up as the implications of what Skye was saying began to seep in. "But my soulbond…"

"I don't know what happened to your soulbond," Skye said gently, "but I do know that I couldn't read your Words without you lifting your hair. And they're not silver."

Wanda turned to her brother. "Pietro?" She wasn’t sure what she was asking. 

"Maybe he's your soulmate, little sister," he said softly. "He did say your Words." 

"But my bond…" she reached deep inside herself, searching for the link between her and her soulmate that had been closed for so many years. Tentatively she turned her reach inwards, expecting to feel nothing but the icy wall she'd felt so many times before. Her eyes widened. There was a little sliver of heat emanating from below her heart. "Oh my God," she whispered, and then louder. "Oh my God!" 

"What?" Pietro gripped her hands. "What's wrong?"

"I can feel something!" She blinked back a sudden rush of tears. "I can feel something there!" 

Pietro didn't have to ask what she meant. He pulled her into a hug. "You found your soulmate!"

Her heart dropped. "Not exactly." 

Pietro released her. "What do you mean, 'not exactly?'"

"I don't know who he is." 

"If he's at this party, we can find him," Skye said with a smile. "Rebecca and I found you, after all, and you were a lot harder to find than going through a guest list."

"I also slapped him when we first met." Skye looked at her with horror. "I thought he'd just read my Words!"

"It's okay," Pietro said soothingly. "Skye forgave me for leaving her. He'll forgive you for hitting him. It will be alright." 

"We'll find him," Skye said with total confidence. She craned her neck to see around the crowded room. "What does he look like?"

Wanda thought back to the blond man who'd approached her, and the instant attraction she'd felt. He'd been tall and leanly muscled, with clean, even features and the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen. "Blond, blue-eyed. And I think he was wearing a white shirt and black pants." 

"He's one of the waiters?" Pietro asked.

"I think so?" 

"There must be at least a hundred—"

"We'll find him," Skye interrupted Pietro. "Like I said, I'm really good at this." 

"And he's probably looking for you, too," Pietro said, clearly changing his tone to match Skye's optimism. He smiled. "How could he not be? You're his soulmate." 

"Of course." Wanda surveyed the room. She bit her lip. Her tall, handsome, blond waiter was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

"I really think we should call an ambulance." 

"No ambulance," Jonas repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. He was lying on a rather comfortable couch with his forearm over his eyes and his legs elevated. They'd taken him to an unoccupied but extremely well-appointed room a few doors away from the party. Somehow Bucky and Steve had known of its existence and taken him there after he'd passed out. They'd laid him down, given him a glass of water and removed his shoes, which Jonas found more embarrassing than helpful. But he'd learned rather quickly that Steve was a nurse at Maria Stark Memorial Hospital, and he was fairly particular that his medical advice be followed. 

Like now, for instance. 

"That woman hit you hard enough that you lost consciousness," Steve said. Again. "You probably have a concussion, and the safest place for you to be—"

"Is in Casualty, I know," Jonas sighed. 

"Come on, man. You really should be seen by a doctor," Bucky chimed in. Again. "She did hit you pretty hard." 

"I didn't pass out because she hit me," Jonas said. Again. It was the third time the three of them had had this argument about whether or not Jonas should go to the hospital. He knew that, from Steve's and Bucky's perspective, it made complete sense that he should be seen by a doctor for being knocked unconscious by the woman's slap. However, Jonas was very aware of the fact that his loss of consciousness had absolutely nothing to do with the woman and everything to do with what happened to his soulbond. 

Something had happened to his soulbond. He could still feel it: the raw agony churning away inside him, barely perceptible under a layer of protective cold. It was like watching a sea monster undulating deep in the water of a clear firth, wondering when it would rise up and attack. He put his hand against his chest. 

"Okay. Fine. You didn't pass out because she hit you," Bucky said, clearly exasperated. "But you know that you still passed out. Which is still a problem." 

"Bucky's right," Steve said. "People, especially young, healthy people like yourself, don't lose consciousness for no reason." Jonas heard Steve move beside the couch and the creak of the expensive leather as Steve knelt. "Is it the cost of American healthcare?" he continued in a much softer tone. "Because I could put in a word with Doctor Stark—"

Jonas moved his forearm and turned his head so he could look at Steve. The concern in Steve's blue eyes was more than apparent, and also echoed in Bucky's. These two men were obviously worried about him, and it was equally as obvious that they weren't going to leave it go until he ended up in the back of an ambulance. He sighed. "I have a disrupted soulbond. That's what caused my blackout." 

"Your what now?" Bucky said.

"Disrupted soulbond?" Steve repeated. "I've only read about that in my textbooks when I was in nursing school. It's meant to be extremely rare." 

"It is." Jonas sat up slowly, hand still pressed to his chest. He felt the bond stir beneath his hand, but the agony was still at bay. For now. "But I seem to be one of the lucky ones."

"What is it?" Bucky asked. He was rubbing the metal of his left forearm, forehead creased. "Does that mean you lost your soulmarks?" He was looking intently at Steve as he spoke.

"Nothing like that." Steve smiled at his fiancé. "It means that something happens to the soulbond after it forms. Something that causes it to come apart." 

"That’s right." Jonas nodded at Steve. "Well, at least that's the way it was explained to me when it happened." At Steve and Bucky's inquisitive look, he continued. "It happened the first time when I was fourteen. I was out with my mates, when suddenly I was hit with this intense pain…" He rubbed the spot on his chest, remembering that day and the explosion of agony that he'd thought was going to kill him. "It was the day my soulmate died." 

"Oh my God," Bucky breathed. "Your soulmate's dead?"

Jonas nodded miserably, gaze focused on the floor. "I hadn't met her yet. Not in person, at least, but I'd been able to feel her through our bond since I was about four. She was the sweetest—" he shook his head, forcing himself to not think of her. It was hard enough sharing the story with these near strangers. He didn't want to cry in front of them, too. "Anyway, that day there was this _pain,_ and then everything just…stopped. I never felt anything from her ever again." 

"Does this happen a lot?" Bucky asked, voice still subdued. "Like, something happens and all of a sudden you feel the same pain like when she died?"

Jonas frowned as he thought about Bucky's question. "No," he said slowly. "No. This hasn't ever happened, actually. Not since…well, not since she died." 

"That's so sad," Steve said softly. "I can't imagine losing my soulmate like that. Having to see their Words change to silver on my skin…"

"Actually, I've never seen that," Jonas admitted. "I don't have her Words. Well, not on my skin. They're inside my body. I had an MRI that showed—"

"The same thing happened to my sister!" Bucky exclaimed. "Her Words formed too deep and tore through her as they formed. She nearly died."

Jonas stared at him. "That sounds awful." 

"It was really bad. But she's okay now. She found her soulmate even without her Words. She's fine." 

The way Bucky looked made Jonas think that he wasn’t entirely fine with it. He couldn't imagine it would be easy to be 'fine' after your sibling was terribly injured. He looked at Bucky and Steve, who was now standing beside Bucky, holding his hand. Bucky's metal hand, which was evidence of some terrible injury Bucky himself had suffered. Bucky had lived through a lot, and most likely Steve, as his soulmate, had shared that pain. If anyone could understand how he felt, it would be them. 

"I wish I had her Words on my skin," Jonas said softly. "Any reminder that she existed, and she was mine." He rubbed his chest, feeling the edges of the pain underneath. Shifting beneath the ice. He grimaced. Bucky put his hand on Jonas' shoulder in an unspoken gesture of support.

"I don't get it either," Steve said, tracking the movements of Jonas' rubbing his chest. "Why are you feeling something from your soulbond? Why now?"

"And why'd it make you pass out?" Bucky added.

"Because it's bloody agony," Jonas said to him. "It's absolutely the worst pain I've ever experienced. Like all the air being squeezed out of your lungs by bands of fire." He shuddered, voice dropping. "It nearly bloody killed me when I was a child. I hoped I'd never feel it again."

"You really should go to the hospital," Steve muttered.

"So, you felt it when she died, but now you're feeling it again?" Bucky looked between Steve and Jonas. "How can you feel something like that again?"

"I don't know," Jonas said honestly. "I have no idea what happened." 

"But you've felt nothing for years, not until the woman in the red dress slapped you? Did she somehow cause this?" Steve asked. 

"Her slap looked pretty hard. But I don't know how she could've done anything," Bucky said. "It's not like she could be your soulmate." 

"Of course not," Jonas said immediately. He thought of the beautiful woman in the red dress, and how drawn to her he'd been. He remembered being completely captivated by her, until she was all he could see. It was the first time in forever that he could remember being awake and not missing his soulmate. It had lasted only seconds, but he'd never forget her. He rubbed at his chest. Even the thought of her was affecting his soulbond. It didn't make sense. "There's no way she could be my soulmate. My soulmate is dead." 

They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts about Jonas' tragedy. 

"Did she say your Words?" Steve said into the silence. "Maybe that's why you've felt something from your bond after so long?" 

"Yeah!" Bucky jumped on the idea. "Maybe your soulbond is reacting to your Words being said out loud after all this time!" 

Jonas shook his head. "I suppose it's possible, but I don't know my Words. They're inside my body, remember?"

"But you had an MRI done," Steve said. "I thought you'd've seen—"

"I never found out what they said," Jonas cut him off. "I guess, after she died, I just never wanted to know." 

"Shit. That really sucks," Bucky said. "I'm sorry." 

Jonas shrugged. "It is what it is." He was emotionally exhausted from talking about the loss of his soulmate, and tense from waiting for his soulbond to erupt again. It was time for the conversation to end. "Anyway, I've been lazing around here long enough. Ms. Potts will not be pleased if her event goes unphotographed." He picked up his shoes from where Steve had put them by the couch and put them back on. 

Bucky handed him his camera. "Are you sure you want to go back to work after that?"

"I still think you should be seen by a doctor," Steve said. "Maybe not for a concussion, but to figure out why your soulbond is hurting you again. It just doesn't make sense."

"I think you're right, and I will," Jonas promised. "I'll talk to Ms. Potts about finding someone first thing. But for now, I need to return to the party." He stood. "Thanks so much for the help, gentlemen." 

"My pleasure," Steve said. He shook Jonas' hand and then Bucky and Steve escorted him back into the party. To Jonas' relief it was still going strong and he'd have plenty of opportunity to make up for the time he'd lost lying on the couch. 

They exchanged goodbyes, and to Jonas' pleasant surprise Steve took Jonas' contact information and gave him his, with stern instructions for Jonas to call or text Steve immediately if he felt worse. It looked like he was going to have some American friends, after all. 

"Your Instagram account's name is Vision?" Steve raised his eyebrow. 

"Check out the pictures before you judge."

"Will you put ours on there?" Bucky said, already scrolling through Jonas' posts. "Skye was right. Your photos are amazing."

"I'll see what my contract says about posting photos from Stark Industries events," Jonas said. "But otherwise? Yes."

"Make sure you get my good side!" Bucky said before he grabbed Steve's hand and started leading him towards the buffet. "Nice to meet you, Jonas. Feel better!" 

Jonas laughed and waved back at Steve. Then he sighed. The melancholy he'd been fighting all night was back in full force, but he still had several hours to go before he could curl up in his Stark-supplied room and try to forget the loss of his soulmate once again. He lifted his camera to his eye and scoped out some pictures, hoping his sour mood wouldn't infect the images. 

He saw the woman in the red dress almost immediately.

She was across the room, standing with a very handsome man with auburn hair. It was obvious they were together by the fact that his tie matched the red of her dress perfectly. He had his arm around her waist and was leaning towards her, and they were gazing at each other with an intimacy that only true love could provide. He recognized it because he'd seen it in the way his parents looked at each other. He'd felt it through his soulbond with his soulmate.

He just didn’t know why seeing the woman in the red dress look at the man with the red tie that way hurt so badly. He rubbed at the spot on his chest, where his soulbond was creaking open, feeling the whispers of pain beneath his skin. Bucky had been right. It was her causing the response in his soulbond. The woman in the red dress was making his soulbond react for the first time in almost ten years. He had no idea why.

"Who are you?" he whispered as he photographed her together with the man. "Who are you?"

* * *

That night, Wanda dreamed of Sokovia.

More specifically, she dreamed of being a child in Sokovia, and feeling her soulmate through her bond. She dreamed of how she used to taste his food as he ate or feel the rain on her skin when he was caught outside. She dreamed of how much love she felt for him, and how she'd feel his love for her, too. Pouring through the bond like water flowing down a river. 

She could feel it now, as she slept. The warmth, the _certainty_ of his love, filling her up from the inside out. The ice that had been there for so long had finally melted. She could feel him again, and it was like she was breathing air after spending her whole life under water.

She woke, crying, feeling her cool tears drying on her cheeks. Immediately she reached for him through the bond, desperate to get him back. 

He was there. 

She gasped in shock, then started to hyperventilate. She could feel him. It was faint, and it felt like she was poking her fingers through ice to feel a fire on the other side, but he was there. 

She started to sob in earnest. Her soulmate was _there_ on the other side of their bond. Like he'd never left. Like the last nine years of being abandoned and deserted and so terribly _alone_ had never happened. 

Wanda closed her eyes against the rush of anguish. She was so relieved to have the bond back, faint as it was, but it didn't mean anything. He'd abandoned her at the worst moment of her life and she'd never felt him again. There was no reason for her to feel him now. No reason that this time he'd stay. 

_Why?_ she sent at him through the bond. _Why did you leave me?_.

She felt nothing but the feeling of shards of ice breaking in her hands. 

He still wasn't trying to reach her. He was still rejecting her. Even after all this time. 

Wanda curled on her side and wept.

* * *

Jonas woke in agony.

It felt like he was being torn in half, like his soulbond was ripping up his insides. Like shards of glass burying themselves deep in his muscle and bone, cutting him apart cell by cell.

He fell out of bed and managed to drag himself to hands and knees, lightheaded and nearly blind from the pain. 

Steve was right. He should've gone to the sodding hospital.

He balanced on all fours, panting in the dark of his room, trying to get his bearings. The room was set up like a hotel suite, and he knew he'd seen a land line somewhere between the small living room and his bedroom. But he had no fucking clue where it might be. 

His mobile was charging in the kitchenette. He might be able to crawl there and get some help. 

Crawling was not working. 

He ended up lying on the carpet, arms wrapped around his middle as he tried to hold the pieces of his body together. He thought he might've thrown up at some point, but all he could really focus on was the all-consuming pain. Every scrap of the ice that had protected him for so long was gone. He was on fire.

He whimpered and then he moaned, and then he was screaming his throat raw. There was no respite from the unbearable agony.

He barely registered the sound of his door being kicked in, or the feeling of strong men lifting him on to a stretcher. The first thing that got through to him was the feeling of a liquid, so blessedly _cold_ as it made its way from the back of his hand straight to the fire burning through him. 

He stopped screaming.

"I bet that feels better, huh?" the paramedic on the seat opposite him said. "Nothing like a little shot of fentanyl to brighten your day. So, my name's Scott, and I'll be your paramedic for this…" he checked his watch, "way too early morning." He pulled the stethoscope off his neck and put the ends into his ears. "Don't mind if I check your vitals now that you're not yelling, do ya?"

Jonas lay back and looked at the ceiling. He barely remembered the last time he'd been in an ambulance. It'd been in London, the first time his soulbond had exploded. He didn't know if they'd given him drugs quite as strong as these.

"This drug is strong," he said, his voice creaking.

"I know, right?" Scott said as he took the stethoscope out of his ears. "So, your blood pressure is high, and your heartrate is, well, let's say it's pretty clear you were in pain. What's up with that?"

"I have a disrupted soulbond."

"No shit?" Scott shook his head. "I remember learning about those at the fire academy. My instructor sort of implied they weren't real. Guess she was wrong!" He leaned forward and made a note on his clipboard. "So, what do you normally do when your soulbond gets disrupted like this?"

Jonas sighed. "I have no idea."

* * *

The hospital staff were very kind to an Englishman on a work visa who had nothing with him but a pair of sleep pants, even going so far as to lend him a phone so he could contact Pepper Potts and let her know he'd be submitting the photos a little late. 

He had no idea how he'd pay for the hospital visit. He wasn't even sure that his contract with Stark Industries covered medical expenses. It hadn't seemed that important to look at before he'd arrived. Like Steve had noted, he was young and healthy. It had never occurred to him that he might end up at the Accident and Emergency within days of his arrival. 

It was hard to be that worried, however. The very nice nurse had apparently believed Scott-the-paramedic's statement of how much bloody pain he'd been in, and they'd kept his fentanyl infusion clipping along at a rate high enough to keep his pain totally manageable. Almost totally manageable. As long as he didn’t move too quickly, or really breathe that hard, he was fine. 

And who needed to breathe deeply anyway? Panting worked for dogs, didn't it?

It occurred to him that he might not be thinking that clearly, but he was very nearly comfortable so he wasn’t going to worry about it. 

He was practicing breathing shallowly when a tall man in a white coat appeared at his bedside. He had dark brown hair with bangs that fell over his forehead and silver streaks at his temples. His face was decorated with a well-groomed goatee that complimented his long and somewhat severe features. Features that were currently frowning at Jonas as if he'd done something wrong.

"Jonas Jarvis," the doctor said. "I don't know if you remember me, but we met about ten years ago in London. I'm Doctor Strange." 

Jonas blinked. He remembered that voice, and the flat American accent that had sounded so out of place in his London hospital room. "Doctor Strange," he repeated. His voice sounded slurred and thick to his ears, like he'd been drinking. "Nice to see you."

The doctor was flipping through his chart. "So, your soulbond's acting up again, I see." He gave Jonas the same disapproving look. "What did you do to make your soulmate reject you this time?"

Jonas blinked again. He knew the fentanyl was getting to him, but the doctor's words made no sense. "I didn’t do anything." 

"Impossible," he said flatly. "There's absolutely no reason for your soulbond to be causing you so much distress. Especially after all this time, unless one of you is making a conscious effort to try to shut the link down. So, what did you do to her, so that she'd try to shut down the link?"

"I didn't do anything," Jonas repeated. "I couldn't've. She's dead." 

Dr. Strange's expression changed from one of disapproval to intense surprise. "She died? When did this happen?"

"When I first met you. She died and my soulbond exploded. Like this." 

"I don't remember that," Dr. Strange said. He turned back to Jonas' chart. "There's nothing here," he said accusingly. "I’m going to have to see if I can get your original chart from London. How do you know she's dead?"

"What?" 

"Your soulmate," Dr. Strange repeated, but slower and louder. "How do you know she's dead?"

"Because you told me. In London," Jonas said equally as slowly. Wasn't this something the doctor should already know? "It hurts because she died.”

"I didn’t tell you that,” the doctor said with complete certainty.

"You did. When we first met," Jonas corrected. He would never, ever forget that day. 

Dr. Strange looked completely unconvinced. "But if she's dead, then there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for your soulbond to be hurting now.” 

Jonas grit his teeth. “Tell that to my soulbond.”

“Okay. Fine. So _why_ is it hurting, then. If she’s been dead for all this time?”

 _The woman in the red dress,_ Jonas opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it again. He had no idea how to explain that to the doctor, not when he couldn’t explain it to himself. "I don’t know."

"Not helpful," Dr. Strange muttered as he reviewed the chart. He peered up at Jonas. "How did she die?"

Jonas thought back to that day, remembering the explosion of pain that felt like it was tearing him apart. It had felt so harsh, so _final_ that he'd never actually questioned what had happened to her to cause it. "I don't know." 

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "Well, how do you know she's actually dead?"

"Because…because I do." 

The doctor glared at him. "That's not particularly evidence based." 

"I never felt her again," Jonas spat. "Happy?"

"I'm sorry for your perceived loss," the doctor said. "But your feeling—or lack thereof—is not proof of anything. Let's focus on something more concrete. Did someone say your Words recently?" 

It was the same thing that Bucky had asked him, and he gave the same answer. "I don't know. I don't know my Words."

"You don't know—wait. You're the guy with his Words buried on the right anterior of his pectoralis major. I remember that now. We had to perform an MRI to find them."

"Yes. That was me." 

"And you never found out what your Words said? I could've sworn we gave them to you." He looked at the chart again. "Not here. Damn. We need to call your parents."

Jonas opened his eyes. He'd started drifting off, but the mention of Ana and Edwin Jarvis brought him startlingly awake. "My parents?"

"I guarantee they will know your Words. Which we need to know to see if anyone said them to you. It would give us a reason as to why your soulbond is acting up. Give me their number." 

"They're in London." 

"The hospital can afford a long-distance call." 

Jonas couldn't argue with that logic. He rattled off the number for the doctor, only getting it wrong twice before he was able to give it correctly. The fentanyl really was quite strong. Dr. Strange walked a few feet over to a desk that had a landline on it and started dialing.

"What if someone did say my marks?" Jonas asked him. "How will that stop the pain?"

Dr. Strange looked at him as if he were extremely stupid. "Because that person will be your soulmate, and once the two of you get together, your soulbond will heal and you'll be fine." He shrugged at Jonas' incredulous expression. "Either that or it's your appendix. I've also ordered an ultrasound. Ah, Ms. Jarvis! It's Doctor Strange calling from New York. I need to ask you a question."

* * *

“It’s not your appendix. And your soulmark Words are, ‘how could you?’”

Jonas opened his eyes at the words, taking a moment to focus. He’d been heavily asleep, dreaming of being caught in the rain, of all things, when the voice had woken him. “Beg pardon?” he murmured. His throat was dry. 

“Your appendix is fine, and your soulmarks say ’how could you?’” Dr. Strange said. He looked down at his flip chart. “Not the most romantic of sentiments, and it strongly implies that you’ve messed up from the beginning, but there you are. So, have you heard them?”

“What?”

“Your soulmarks!” Dr. Strange said, exasperated. “I called London to ask your parents specifically about this, and they told me that the MRI had shown those Words. We just had this conversation. Has anyone said them to you recently?”

Jonas paused, trying to collect his thoughts. He remembered a beautiful woman in a stunning red dress with eyes as bright and shining as precious stones. “Yes,” he said slowly. “A woman at the party.” 

“She’s your soulmate,” Dr. Strange said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Do you know who she was?”

Jonas smiled. “An angel.” His smile faltered at Dr. Strange’s very unimpressed expression. He swallowed. “These drugs are very strong?” 

“You’ve been in a lot of pain.” Dr. Strange pierced him with his eyes. “Wait, are you saying you’re _not_ in pain right now? And that’s why the drug is strong?”

Jonas started to protest, then stopped. Tentatively, he reached deep inside himself, looking for the sharp edges of his broken soulbond, tensing for the agony that he was sure would come. 

But there was nothing. He could feel that the ice wall that had protected him was back in place. It was thinner than before, like the covering of a pond in early Spring. He knew if he even touched it, it would shatter, spilling shards of glass and fire through him. But right this second, he was fine. “I’m not in pain.” 

Dr. Strange actually blinked. “Why not?”

“I…don’t know,” Jonas said honestly. “But it’s still there. Underneath. I can feel it.”

“Your soulbond isn’t hurting now, but you know it could start hurting again at any moment?”

“Yes,” Jonas agreed. “That’s it exactly.” 

“Okay then. I’ll have the nurse discontinue your IV and arrange your discharge and you can go home and stop cluttering up my ED,” Dr. Strange said. He started to leave. “Oh, and you might want to find the ‘angel’ who said ‘how could you?', to you, and see if you can convince her to stop messing with your soulbond. Flowers might work.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” Jonas called after him. 

Dr. Strange turned back, exasperated look firmly in place. “What?”

“What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. My soulmate’s dead.” 

Dr. Strange pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. I get that you had some traumatic thing happen when you were twelve—”

“Fourteen.”

“—and it made you _believe_ that your soulmate was dead. But there is no way that you can be having a disrupted soulbond reaction ten years—”

“Nine years.”

“—later if she were _actually_ dead. Dead is dead, and dead soulmates don’t cause disrupted soulbonds. So clearly, she’s not dead. And since you just told me that a woman at a party you recently attended said your Words to you, it would seem that your soulmate is, in fact, alive. You really need to find her sooner rather than later to make sure you don’t end up in here again.” With a flounce of his lab coat, he stalked off.

It was too incredible to believe. Jonas felt his eyes well with a sudden and unwelcome rush of tears. The idea that his perfect angel of a soulmate could still be _alive…_ He wanted it to be true so badly.

* * *

“I don’t want to go out.” 

Pietro glared at her. “I wish you told me this before you made me spend an hour on the subway.” 

“I thought we could just hang out here?” Wanda batted her eyelashes at her brother, which only made him glare harder. She frowned. “Pietro!”

She was sitting on the leather couch in the main seating area of her parent’s lush Manhattan penthouse, still in pajamas. It had been impossible for her to get back to sleep after her dream the night before and the idea of going out into the wet November day felt like too much to bear. 

He sighed and flopped down beside her on the couch. “Fine. We can stay. But you need to make me food. I’m starving.” 

Wanda beamed at him and picked up her cell phone. “What do you want? I’ll tell our chef.” 

“You have a chef?” 

“Yes?”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe how spoiled you are.” 

“I was going to ask him to make waffles with bananas and Nutella,” Wanda said. “You still like that?”

“You remembered!” Now her brother’s eyes were bright with happiness. 

“I didn’t forget a single thing about you,” Wanda said truthfully. She took his hand as she made the call. 

“I really missed you, little sister,” he murmured in Sokovian. 

Wanda thanked the chef and hung up. “Me, too,” she replied to Pietro in Sokovian. She knew he was talking about the nine years they’d spent apart. “Every second of every day.” 

Pietro bumped her shoulder with his own before their mood could become too melancholy. “How’s your bond?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Nothing’s changed. It still feels the same as always. He’s still rejecting me.” She dropped her gaze. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Pietro protested. “Why would he bother saying your Words at the Ball if he was just going to reject you right after?”

“Why did he reject me in the first place?” Wanda said unhappily. “His reason doesn’t matter. I am rejected just the same.” 

“Skye thinks there’s more to the story,” Pietro said, and then “there has to be!” at Wanda’s sharp look. 

“I’m glad Skye’s so optimistic,” Wanda sniffed. 

“I think it’s because she was able to find you…and because I was able to find her. Even after our bad start.” 

“A bad start that was all your fault.” Wanda had heard the story of how Pietro had rejected Skye when they’d first met, worried that his soulmate would stop him from travelling to Sokovia to find his twin sister. But Skye had been the one to track down Wanda in the end.

“Yes, I admit it was my fault. I rejected Skye for all the wrong reasons, and I’m sorry for that. But we’re together now. And Skye thinks that you and your soulmate can have a happy ending, too. So do I.” 

“That’s a very sweet sentiment, but I can _feel_ how hard he’s rejecting me.” Wanda picked at her pajama pants, eyes down. “He really doesn’t want to be with me.” 

“I’m pretty sure that Skye could feel me rejecting her, too,” Pietro said wryly. “But I made that decision out of ignorance and fear. Maybe your soulmate is doing the same thing?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s all a moot point, anyway. It’s not like Skye’s been able to track him down.” It was true. Skye had gathered as much information as she could about all the blond and male waiters who had worked at the Ball, and none of them had been her soulmate. 

“About that.” Pietro raised his eyebrows. “I have an idea.”

* * *

By the time Jonas was discharged from the hospital Ms. Potts’ driver had arrived to take Jonas back to his flat. 

The door looked like it had been replaced, which made him pause until he remembered that the rescue personnel had kicked it in to get to him. It was equally as obvious that his carpet had been cleaned from where he’d been sick, as the whole place had a slightly lemony scent. There was a take-out container of chicken soup in the fridge and a ‘get well soon!’ card on the counter with a note in Ms. Potts beautiful handwriting letting him know that she wouldn’t be expecting to see any of the photographs until the following day. The post-script also let him know that medical care was one-hundred per-cent covered for Stark employees and that he wasn’t to worry. It also said that there was a sentient A.I. that monitored all the Stark apartments, and that’s how the ambulance had been called. And he should tell this A.I. if he needed any other medical attention. 

He really did owe that Skye person a drink. 

He found his mobile where he’d left it charging in the kitchen. There were fifteen missed calls, and all of them were from his mother. 

The phone rang again before he even had a chance to thumb it open.

“Oh my God, Jonas!” his mother cried the second he muttered ‘hello?’ “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine mom.” Jonas unplugged his phone and went to the couch to sit. “Sorry the doctor gave you such a shock.”

“Shock? Jonas! We were called by a doctor from Casualty! You’ve only been in New York three days!” 

“I’m sorry?”

“What happened?” He could hear the panic in his mother’s tone. “The doctor said something about your soulbond?”

“I’m fine,” Jonas repeated. “My disrupted soulbond just flared up again. But it’s fine now. I’m fine. I promise.” 

“But your soulmate’s dead! That shouldn’t be possible!”

“I know.”

“Was it bad?”

 _Really bad,_ Jonas thought. He rubbed at his chest, feeling the thin layer covering his soulbond, brittle and fragile. “Not too terrible,” he said instead. 

He could practically see his mother narrowing her eyes at him over the phone. “I don’t believe you.”

“It wasn’t great,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m fine now. Really.” 

“My poor baby! I’m coming to New York to help you—” 

“No! Mom, no. You don’t need to do that.”

“But how will you pay? Health care costs so much in America.” 

Jonas explained to his mother about Ms. Potts generosity. “Like I said, I’m fine.”

“ _Hülyeség,_ ” Ana swore in Hungarian. “You are not fine! Your soulbond is causing you pain after nine years of nothing! The doctor said it is probably because your soulmate is rejecting your bond. How can you possibly be fine?”

It was amazing how much it hurt, hearing his mother say that his soulmate was rejecting their bond. That his soulmate was _alive_ and rejecting him. He rubbed his chest, feeling the pain swirling around, just barely beneath his ability to feel it. “I’m not, actually,” he said honestly, voice cracking.

“Oh baby. Oh, my poor child.” She kept repeating those words over and over while Jonas cried. “I think I should come,” she said after a while, when Jonas’ tears had finally ebbed. 

“It’s all right,” Jonas said again. There was part of him that would’ve loved nothing better than for his mother to be with him, but he wasn’t going to accept her offer. He was twenty-three years old. He’d be fine. “You really don’t have to come.” 

“I can’t believe she’s rejecting you,” Ana said. “Not after so many years apart. It makes no sense.” 

Jonas explained about the woman in the red dress, how he’d been so drawn to her, and then said the first thing that popped into his head. He explained how she’d slapped him and he’d collapsed before he could go after her. “But I’m fine, really,” he said yet again after his mother’s sharp intake of breath. “I promise.” 

He could practically feel his mother thinking over the phone. “And you’re sure you said her soulmarks?”

“I don’t know,” Jonas replied honestly. He’d picked up his camera from where he’d left it by his mobile and was idly flipping through the photos he’d taken the night before as he spoke. He immediately found one of the woman in the red dress and his heart constricted. “It was the doctor who said she must be my soulmate. All I know is that she said my Words before she slapped me, and then I was in pain.” He took a breath, looking at the next photo which was the woman standing beside the devastatingly handsome man with the matching red tie. He put the camera down. “But I think she has a boyfriend.” 

“A boyfriend? How can your soulmate have a boyfriend?”

“Because she’s not really my soulmate,” Jonas said, finally voicing what he’d been thinking. “Because my soulmate died when I was fourteen and all of this is just an unpleasant coincidence.” 

“But the doctor—” 

“Doesn’t know anything!” Jonas shouted. “He thinks he knows, but he doesn’t! My soulmate’s dead. She’s _dead_ and no amount of wishful thinking—”

“Enough!” His mother cut him off. “Enough Jonas! You’re not thinking about this logically.” 

“I know what I know. I felt her _die._ ” His eyes burned with yet more tears and he wiped at his eyes. _God, would this pain never end?_

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong!” Jonas snapped. “It was the most devastating pain—”

“That you just felt again,” Ana interrupted. “Admit it. This pain was every bit as bad as it was the first time.” At Jonas’ silence she continued. “it _had_ to have been that bad, or why else would you have ended up in hospital? By ambulance?”

“It was worse,” Jonas admitted reluctantly. 

“My poor baby,” Ana murmured. “That must have been awful.” 

Jonas rubbed at his chest. The deep ache was still there, just beneath his ability to feel it, but it would take nothing to break the thin layer that was keeping it at bay. He shivered. “It was.” 

“But Jonas,” his mother said, “you said the first time you felt the pain was when she died.” 

“Yes,” Jonas agreed. “And that’s how I know the woman in the red dress can’t be my soulmate.” 

“But Jonas,” his mother said again, “How could she die _twice?_ ” 

It was very similar to what Dr. Strange had said to him in the hospital. That the only way he could still be feeling anything from his soulbond was because his soulmate was still alive. The idea was crazy; nonsensical. But it might also be true. He felt his heart start to pound. “Do you…” he had to clear his throat. “Do you really think she might still be alive?”

“I don’t see how not,” his mother said, and then exclaimed excitedly. “Oh Jonas! To think you might find her after all this time!” 

Jonas thought about the woman in the red dress, the same feeling of desire and longing welling up inside him, just like the first time he’d seen her. “But I don’t know how to find her,” he admitted reluctantly. “I don’t even know her name.” 

“Jonas,” his mother said, and something in her tone had him sitting up straighter on the couch. “Do you have a map of New York?”

“Yes,” he said. 

“Go get it,” she commanded. “You’re going to need it.”

* * *

“You want me to try a map?”

“Of course.” Pietro popped a bite of his banana-Nutella-whipped cream waffle into his mouth. “There is no better way to find him.” 

Wanda crossed her arms. “You tried to send Skye an email.” 

“I knew where she worked!” Pietro scowled at her. “You have no idea where your soulmate is.” He cut another piece of waffle and grinned broadly before biting it. “Your chef is excellent.”

“Yes, Pierre is great. You should taste his omelets.” Wanda still had her arms crossed. “But I know he is in New York.” 

“But you don’t know where.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. “True.” She sighed. She picked up her knife and fork and took a bite of her asparagus and swiss omelet, chewing thoughtfully. She remembered when she’d been a little girl and how she’d begged her mother to let her try finding her soulmate on a map, and how her mother had always said that she was too young. She wasn’t too young now, but her mother wasn’t here for her to share the moment with. The thought made her sad. 

Of course, Pietro noticed. “I wish mother were here. To share this with you.” 

Wanda smiled gratefully at him. It was so good to have her brother back in her life. The one person who understood her best of all. It made her wonder if her soulmate would ever know her like that. Which immediately reminded her that he still hadn’t opened their bond. “He doesn’t want me to find him,” she said morosely. 

“You don’t know that!”

“How can you say that?” She put down her cutlery with more force than necessary. “He’s closed the bond between us! It’s been closed for _nine years!_ How can you say that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want me?”

“Because anyone with eyes would want you,” Pietro said with complete confidence. 

Wanda couldn’t help smiling with pleasure at her brother’s words. “Charmer.” She smacked him lightly with her napkin. “But it doesn’t change the truth. He saw me at the Ball. He even said my Words! But our bond remains closed.” 

“You did slap him.”

Wanda’s smile fell. “Do you think that’s the reason?”

“I was joking!” Pietro protested immediately. “But maybe something’s happened to his side of the bond. Maybe he can’t open it anymore.” 

The thought was so startling that Wanda was rendered momentarily speechless. “He can’t open the bond?” 

“You say that it feels like it’s been covered over with ice,” Pietro said. “Maybe something happened and he doesn’t know how to uncover it.”

Gently Wanda probed her bond. She could feel it, resting under her heart, cold to the touch but like there was a raging fire just underneath. She could tell that the layer keeping her from all that beautiful warmth was thin and delicate, like fine crystal or expensive porcelain. It would take almost no effort for her to smash it to smithereens. 

And she was so tempted. She wanted to feel his fire, his _love_ again, like she had when she was young. Mentally she traced her fingers over it, feeling the icy chill. “I could break it,” she whispered. “I could break right through it. If I wanted. He couldn’t ignore me then.” 

Pietro put his next bite of waffled down on his plate. “You could break it?”

Wanda nodded. “The ice layer? Its very thin.” 

“What would happen if you did?” 

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip, excited and terrified all at once. “Should I try?”

“I don’t know.” Pietro’s expression mirrored hers. “Do you want to?”

She nodded, then tentatively pushed against the ice covering their soulbond. She could feel the fragile layer give slightly with the pressure. Her heart was pounding. 

Pietro was leaning half-way across the table. “Did you do it?”

“No.” She withdrew her energy from the bond. “He’s blocked it off for a reason. I’m not just going to break through. Not until I know why he did it.” 

Pietro sat back. “Sounds like you’re going to have to find him.” 

“I hope you brought a map,” Wanda said.

* * *

It had taken almost two hours for Wanda to establish the address of the coffee shop where her supposed soulmate would be found. She’d showered and dressed in record time, agonizing over every second that it took for the subway to make its way to their destination in the East Village from downtown Manhattan.

“I think this must be a mistake,” Wanda muttered, not for the first time as they went into the coffee shop. It was the same one where she’d met up with Pietro and Skye back in October and the serendipity felt more than coincidental. “For sure I did it wrong when I said my soulmarks. Perhaps we should go back…”

Pietro stopped her from turning around and heading straight out the door. “It will be fine, little sister,” he murmured to her in Sokovian. “You didn’t do it wrong. He will be here.” 

For a moment Wanda rested her head against her brother’s broad shoulders and he wrapped her in his arms. She’d missed almost ten years of his life and over a foot and a half of growth, but right that second, she couldn’t mind that he had ended up so much taller than her. “What if he’s not?” she whispered. "What if he still doesn’t want me?"

“He will be here,” her brother said again. “And I will be here, too. All you need to do is turn around and look.” 

“Are there any tall blond men here?” She asked, forehead still pressed into his jacket. 

“Yes,” Pietro said. She could hear the laughter in his voice. “And one looks as scared as you are.”

Wanda’s head shot up and she turned around. 

He was there, standing by the bar waiting for his order. He was _right there._ The waiter from the Ball. The one she’d slapped silly. Her soulmate.

He was wearing a pair of blue jeans over tan work boots, a dark blue pea coat and a Burberry-patterned scarf. His short blond hair was artfully mussed and as light as the winter sunshine. His eyes were blue like the sky and wide with obvious surprise. 

She moved towards him as he moved towards her. Both of them drawn together. She felt like a compass being pulled to her true North.

He stopped in front of her. Close enough that, if she wanted, she could touch him without even straightening her arms. His eyes were still wide with awe and wonder, now shiny with unshed tears. His hands opened, like he wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t. He stayed still, barely breathing. Like he couldn’t believe she was real. He was tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Her soulmate.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, drinking him in. She wanted to _feel_ him like she had before. To finally have the cold place inside her warm with his love. But when reached inside it was still blocked, still iced over. As frozen as his heart. 

He was still rejecting her. Even though he was _right there,_ he was still keeping their bond closed. He didn’t want her. It hurt. Worse than anything she could think of, and for a dizzying moment it was like she was back in the hospital, waking up to find her parents dead and her brother gone, and that her soulmate had abandoned her. 

She had promised herself that she’d never, ever feel like that again. “How could you?” She hissed. Her hand was balled into a fist, and it took all her willpower not to just punch him in his too-handsome face. Instead she turned and strode with purpose back towards the door.

He caught the edge of the sleeve of her coat and she let herself be turned back towards him, inwardly cursing herself for being so weak-willed. She found herself once again looking into his eyes, as blue as her breaking heart. “I meant what I said to you before,” he said, and she remembered how rich his voice had sounded, how sexy his English accent was. “I will love you forever. Just tell me when to start.” 

“Don’t say that.” Her voice broke on the words. “Don’t tell me that when you don’t mean it.”

“Don’t mean it? Of course I mean it! You’re my soulmate!” 

“But you shut off the bond,” Wanda said. She was doing her best to keep her voice down, but it was obvious that she and her soulmate were attracting a lot of attention from the café patrons. She could see Pietro loitering by the doorway out of the corner of her eye, trying to pretend he wasn’t paying as much attention to them as everyone else was. She was immediately fed up with the whole situation. “Come on,” she ordered him. She marched back towards the entrance and he followed. “Stay here!” she snapped at her brother, who obligingly put his hands up and took a step back as she and her soulmate went out of the café and onto the sidewalk. The cold November air immediately wrapped itself around her. It did nothing to cool her anger. She turned to face him. 

“You shut off the bond!” Wanda repeated. “ _Our_ bond! The worst day of my life and you _shut it down!_ I needed you so badly—” She broke off, wiping fiercely at the tears rolling down her cheeks, going from hot to cold as they fell. “How could you?”

He was staring at her and rubbing his chest with the heel of one hand. “I thought you were dead.” There was a world of pain in that simple sentence. “I felt this…this _explosion_ inside of me. It was like…” He shook his head, swallowing back tears. “It was like I’d lost the most precious thing in my life. My angel. My precious angel. I thought you were dead.” 

“You thought I was _dead?_ ” Wanda gasped. Of all the scenarios she’d thought of as to why he’d shut down their bond, him thinking she was dead had never occurred to her. “I’m not dead.” 

“Well I know that _now_ ,” he laughed wetly. “God, I wish I knew it sooner.” 

“But why didn’t you just open our soulbond?” Wanda asked plaintively. “You would’ve known I was here the whole time, if you just opened it.” 

He stared at her. “But I didn’t shut it down.” 

She stared back. “Well, I didn’t do it.” 

His expression looked almost frightened. “But I really can’t open it. Believe me.” 

“But that makes no sense.” Wanda frowned. “By the time I woke up in the hospital in Germany it was already shut down. It couldn’t have been me.” 

He gasped. “You were in hospital?”

“Yes. After the bomb crashed into our apartment and killed our parents in Sokovia, I had a head injury and was evacuated to Germany. I woke up in hospital completely alone.” She emphasized the last part so he would know how much the loss of their bond had meant to her. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You weren’t there,” Wanda said. Her eyes filled with tears again. “My parents were dead and I’d lost my brother and _you weren’t there!_ ”

“Angel…” he went to touch her, but she pulled back, too hurt to let accept his comfort. He let his hands fall to his side. “Angel I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry.” 

“Why won’t you open it?” she sobbed, hugging herself. “Why won’t you just open our bond?”

“I can’t.” There was frustration in his voice, overlaid by what she told herself couldn't be fear, because that made no sense. Why would he be frightened of having their bond returned? “I would if I could, I swear! But I can’t.” 

Wanda reached down inside herself, feeling their bond. The ice was still there, still covering it, still as delicate and thin as the last time she’d touched it. “I can open it!” She felt a thrill of happiness at the idea of finally, _finally_ having her soulmate back. Holding him in her heart as well as her arms, the way she’d always dreamed of when she was a child. 

“You can?” His eyes widened. "Wait, no. Don't—!"

She slammed through the ice, shattering it like dropping a wine glass on tile. She felt it disintegrate under her efforts, melting in the heat of their bond. It flooded through her, a thick river of warmth and light and _love_ and she laughed, happiness bubbling through her. 

Her soulmate screamed like she’d stabbed him. He fell hard to the ground.

* * *

Jonas felt it the instant she broke through the bond between them. 

He had been so happy, so _overwhelmed_ to finally meet the woman in the red dress. His soulmate, who was whole and healthy and _alive._ It was everything he’d ever dreamed of. 

But Dr. Strange had been wrong. Being with her hadn’t fixed his disrupted soulbond. He could still feel it, swirling around like red-hot agony just out of reach. He almost laughed in despair when she started asking about opening their bond. No matter how much he missed it, no matter how much he loved her, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t survive that much pain. No one could. They’d have to figure it out another way.

But she didn’t give them the chance. 

To be fair, he hadn’t really told her about what would happen when the bond was opened. Hell, they hadn’t even gotten to their first names yet. He'd assumed she'd give him more time to explain. He'd obviously overestimated her patience. 

Except for the fact he was now lying on the freezing sidewalk clutching his abdomen and trying his damnedest to keep his howling behind his teeth. It wasn’t working very well.

“What the hell happened?” his soulmate’s boyfriend asked. Jonas had noticed him before, but he’d been so caught up in finally meeting his _soulmate_ that he hadn’t really thought about the fact he was there. Something he’d have to deal with later.

If he didn’t die right on the sidewalk, that was. 

“He needs an ambulance!” Someone else said, and Jonas was inclined to agree. 

The pain was roaring through him. Tearing him apart like a million shards of burning glass. Every part of him was on fire. He pressed his face into the sidewalk, aching for a modicum of relief from the way he was being flayed from the inside. 

A pair of cool hands were placed on his face, and there was a small lessening of the pain, just enough that he could take in a breath of air. He cracked his eyes open.

His Angel was looking down at him, her long chestnut hair framing her face. Her eyes were wide with concern, glinting like emeralds. 

He felt something ease inside him, a smoothing of a few of the rough edges and he sighed in relief. But then the ambulance came and she was moved away and the pain came roaring back. He moaned and tried to push at the hands of the EMTs. It burned where they touched him. It burned _everywhere._ It was going to kill him. He wished it would hurry up. Anything so his pain would end. 

He felt the prick of an IV being started and then the rush of cool fluid into the back of his hand, and the pain receded just enough that he could finally breathe. 

He opened his eyes. 

“Hi,” the young woman on the bench said. “I’m Kamala, your EMT for this ride. Care to tell me what happened?”

“Disrupted soulbond,” Jonas managed to force out. He grimaced as the pain swirled through him. Every heartbeat was agony.

“Wow.” Kamala looked impressed. “My instructor at the fire academy kind of implied that disrupted soulbonds weren’t a thing. I guess she was wrong.” 

“Is my…soulmate with you?” He gasped. He was really going to have to learn her name. 

Kamala shook her head. “You were kind of our priority.” 

He was hit with a wave of despair sharp enough that for a moment it hurt worse than the pain from his soulbond. His soulmate wasn’t with him. She’d left him. He closed his eyes.

* * *

When he next opened his eyes, it was to find Dr. Strange shining an extremely bright light directly into his pupils. 

Jonas made an inarticulate noise of discomfort and turned his head, eyes squeezed shut. He could feel the disrupted soulbond rolling through him, like a Tsunami destroying everything in their path. The pain was nauseating. He retched. 

“Basin, please,” Dr. Strange ordered, and someone got a bowl underneath his mouth just in time. Jonas lay back, panting. 

Dr. Strange was glaring at him. “Why are you back here?”

“My soulbond—” He threw up again, the intensity of the pain catching him by surprise. His whole body was sheened with sweat. He was shaking. 

“This is definitely worse than it was this morning,” Dr. Strange mused. He gestured at a nurse to do…something with his IV. “What changed?”

“I met my soulmate,” Jonas gasped. “You were right. She’s alive.” 

“Of course I was right,” the doctor said. “I doubt that was even in question. So, what happened?”

“She broke—” the sentence ended in a grunt as another wave of agony tore through him. It was like his soul had turned to razor blades and was slicing him to pieces. 

“The fentanyl’s not working,” the nurse said. “I’ve upped the dose but there’s no change.” 

“Damn,” Dr. Strange muttered. “Switch to morphine. Let’s see if that works.” He rattled off a dose and Jonas stopped listening.

Dr. Strange tapped his cheek, and Jonas’ eyes flew open. The doctor leaned over him. “Where’s your soulmate now?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You really messed this up, didn’t you?” The doctor said. “I knew you’d upset her before, but you must’ve really blown it if she’s broken your bond.”

 _Broken the bond?_ Is that what she’d done? Jonas had thought she’d been trying to break _through_ their bond. To reconnect their souls that had somehow been separated by that wall of ice. But what if she’d been so angry at him that she’d broken their bond instead? 

“No,” he ground out. He wouldn’t believe that. He _couldn’t._ She wouldn’t give up on him so fast, would she?

“It’s unfortunate that it ended this way, but at least we can do something about it,” Dr. Strange said. “We can give you an enzyme cocktail that mimics the reaction that the body goes through after their soulmate dies. It’s the reason that the Words turn silver. Once you’ve had that, your bond will close down and the pain will stop. Sound good?” He patted Jonas on the shoulder and turned to the nurse before Jonas could even register what he’d said.

“No,” Jonas moaned, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want his body to think his soulmate was dead. He’d lived with that pain for nine years. He never wanted to face it again. 

But the pain he was in now was the worse he’d ever experienced. What if it never ended? He could barely breathe. He could barely _think_ with the way his soulbond was ripping him apart. Maybe his soulmate _had_ broken their bond. He’d found his Angel only to lose her again.

“I’ve given you a dose of morphine, which should help with the pain,” the nurse said. “And I’ve ordered the medicine from the pharmacy. Just hold on for a few minutes, and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Jonas managed to nod, tears streaming down his face. He doubted he’d ever feel better again.

* * *

Something awful was happening. 

Wanda could feel it through her bond with her soulmate. The way it churned and thrashed, like a fish caught on dry land. She tried to send soothing emotions through it, peace, happiness, _love._ but for some reason it wasn’t getting through. 

She clutched her brother’s arm, wishing the taxi would go faster. “Something is terribly wrong.” 

He patted her hand. “I know you’re worried, little sister. But he’s with medical professionals. He’s safe. Don’t worry.” 

She shot him a look. Did telling someone not to worry _ever_ work? “I should have gone in the ambulance.” 

“He was in a lot of pain. It’s better that you weren’t there.” 

Wanda glared at her brother again. “Is that why you wouldn’t let me go with them? So I wouldn’t have to see my soulmate in pain?” 

“I have seen people in pain before. It’s…it’s not pretty. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with it.” 

“I am _not_ a child who needs to be protected!” She said fiercely. “And he’s my _soulmate!_ You had _no right_ to keep us apart!”

His expression darkened. “And you have _no idea_ what kind of shit I saw in the refugee camp! So excuse me for wanting to keep you from having to see anything like it.” He crossed his arms and turned away.

Her anger cooled with her brother’s words. “Pietro.” She put her hand on his arm and he shrugged her off. “Pietro,” she said more forcefully, tugging him towards her.

Reluctantly he turned, still glowering. “What.”

“Seeing my soulmate in pain. Did it remind you of the camp?”

“Of course it did!” Pietro spat. “People writhing on the ground. Diseased, tortured! Beaten, shot…It was horrible and only having Bruce there kept me sane. But if you want to experience the same thing, if you want to jump into the back of an ambulance with someone screaming in _agony,_ well go ahead!” 

She hugged him. He stiffened, but then melted into her, holding her tightly as his body shook. He’d been triggered by her soulmate’s collapse, thrust back into his time in the Latverian refugee camp when he was just a child. It was only natural that he’d want to protect her from that kind of horror. She wished she could’ve protected him. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured as she held him. “You’re safe. You’re home.” 

“I’m so glad you didn’t live through that.” Pietro clutched her. “I’m _so glad_ that you were rescued and you never had to see any of it. And I’m sorry I didn’t let you go with your soulmate. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make you do that. I just _couldn’t._ ”

Finally, Pietro gently disentangled himself from his sister. He wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry I kept you from the ambulance.” 

“Me, too,” she said honestly. She rubbed her chest, the feeling of _wrongness_ only building. “I should be with him.” 

“We’ll be there soon. He’ll be okay.” But Pietro’s expression was a reflection of her worry.

* * *

It felt like it took _forever,_ but finally they pulled up in front of the emergency department of _Maria Stark Memorial._ Wanda launched herself out of the taxi, not even waiting for her brother to pay the fare. She’d pay him back later.

She ran through the automatic doors, barely pausing for them to open for her, then screeched to a halt. She wasn’t in the patient area, but the waiting area where people registered to be seen. The line for triage was very long and it didn’t look like there was anyone else to ask.

She did a slow rotation of the room, and located the large automatic doors labeled _Emergency Staff Only._ Her soulmate was behind those doors. She could feel it. She walked over to the door with purpose and barely paused to push them open and enter. A second later she was through.

She took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief that no one had stopped her. But now she needed to find her soulmate. The business of the ED waiting area contrasted sharply with the determined calm of the emergency department itself. Medical professionals moved back and forth with purposeful steps, and most of the rooms and alcoves had closed doors or curtains pulled shut to maintain patient’s privacy. She really didn’t want to be opening doors or throwing curtains back to find him, but she wasn’t sure what else she could do that wouldn’t give herself away. She bit her lip.

The uncomfortable feeling in her chest was still pulling at her, leading her deeper into the ED. She passed by the nurses’ station where a doctor was standing, reviewing a chart. His head snapped up as she passed.

“You’re not meant to be in here.”

Wanda felt her face heat. How had he identified that so quickly? But she’d come this far, and she certainly wasn’t going to leave without seeing her soulmate. She straightened her back. “I’m looking for my soulmate.” 

“Uh huh,” the doctor said. He had grey temples and a long, severe face with an extremely well-sculpted goatee. “And what’s the name of this soulmate, then?”

Wanda just managed not to gasp ineffectively like a goldfish. Instead she thought of her mother, and how powerful Magda was, even though she was so short. Wanda raised her chin. “We haven’t got that far yet.” 

The doctor put down the chart he was looking at. “Let me get this straight. You’re looking for your soulmate, but you don’t know his _name?_ ”

“We had just started talking when he collapsed,” Wanda said. It was true and maybe it would be enough information for this doctor to help her find him. “Maybe you know who he is?”

“Tell me about this collapse,” the doctor asked. He was peering at her intently and Wanda did her best not to wilt under his penetrating gaze. 

“We were talking and suddenly he screamed in pain and fell to the ground,” Wanda said. “Then we called an ambulance and they brought him here. Do you know—”

“No, no. Don’t give me the Cliff Notes! I want _details!_ What were you talking about?”

Wanda took a breath and tried again. “We were talking about soulbonds. Specifically, _our_ soulbond and…” she took a breath. She didn’t want to tell this doctor about her nine years of pain, or the fact that she may have been the one to cause her soulmate such intense agony, but she instinctively knew it was important. “And why he’d shut it down for so many years. He said he _hadn’t_ but he couldn’t open it, so I did. And then he collapsed.” 

The doctor’s intense expression hadn’t changed. “Wait. You _opened_ your bond and he collapsed?”

Wanda nodded. “I opened it, and then he—”

The doctor waved his hand. “I know that part! How did you open the bond?”

Wanda swallowed against the sudden rush of shame. She hadn’t thought about it before, not really, but her soulmate had collapsed after she’d forced open their bond. He'd even tried to stop her, but she'd been so excited about being able to feel him again that she'd just blasted through it, like a child stomping on an ice-covered puddle. And he’d gotten hurt because of it. _She’d_ done this to him. _She’d_ hurt him. He was in the hospital, in _agony_ because of her. 

Maybe she’d even killed him.

“I broke through it,” she said, voice wavering. “I could feel the way it was blocked off and I broke through it. I didn't…I didn't know it would hurt him.” What had she done?

The doctor was still staring at her and she continued to meet his gaze, willing herself not to cry. Abruptly he seemed to come to some conclusion. “Come with me.” 

He turned and strode very fast away from the nurses’ station on his very long legs. Wanda had to jog to keep up. He brought her over to a small curtained area and he hurled it back.

Her soulmate was on the other side. 

His blond hair was dark and plastered to his forehead with sweat and he looked terribly pale. He seemed asleep, but his eyes were closed tightly, like even his dreams were causing him pain. The sense of _wrongness_ was so strong that she gasped. Her hands spasmed with the desire to touch him. 

“Is he…can I?” She didn’t know what she was asking.

“Go to him,” the doctor said, and his voice was the kindest she’d heard it. He then went over to the IV bag that was hanging and turned it off. “I doubt he’ll need that anymore,” he said to no one in particular. He turned back to Wanda. “You should touch him. As much physical contact as possible. It will reestablish your bond.” Then he drew the curtain back and was gone.

Wanda was alone with her soulmate for the first time in her entire life. 

She went over to the bed, and began stroking his damp hair back from his forehead. This close she could see the salt stains around his eyes; how tightly he was holding them closed. Her heart ached for him, for the obvious pain he was in. For all the years they’d spent apart. 

His eyes fluttered and opened, and once again she was caught by the shade of blue, bright like a winter morning. “Hello soulmate,” she said. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Am I dreaming?”

She shook her head. “I’m right here.” 

He sighed in contentment, but then grimaced and rolled on his side, clutching at his abdomen. She could feel it too, the way his soulbond was misaligned inside him, the reason why he was in so much pain. 

Wanda pulled her hands back, afraid she was the reason for his renewed agony. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know,” he sobbed. “I don’t know how to make it stop.” 

“Why is it hurting?” She didn’t need to clarify it was their soulbond she was referring to. She could feel it under her sternum, a whirlpool of angry fire. But she was in no pain at all.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the pain intensified and he had no more breath.

Wanda couldn’t take it anymore. She kicked of her boots, took off her coat, lowered the rails and climbed into the narrow bed with him. The doctor had said to touch him and she had to believe that he was right. She lay down and pulled her soulmate to her, spooning his tall frame as best she could. She draped one arm over him and put her leg over his hip. The palm of her hand was over his heart. “Is this better?” She asked, her mouth nearly touching the space between his shoulder-blades, uncovered by the inadequate hospital gown. 

He lay still for a moment, and then slowly she could feel the tension leave his body. He took a breath, and then another, his rib-cage expanding under her arm. “Yes,” he said, wonder in his voice. “The pain’s not so bad now.” 

She smiled. “I’m very glad to hear it.” 

She felt him swallow. “What’s your name?”

“Wanda Eisenhardt,” she said. “And yours?”

“Jonas Jarvis,” he said immediately, “and I’m very happy to make your acquaintance.”  
“I’m very happy to meet you, too, Jonas,” she said.

* * *

Jonas felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. 

One minute he’d been lying in screaming agony in a hospital cot, waiting for the medication to start that would sever his soulbond forever, and the next minute, his soulmate had appeared. And she was now _holding him in her arms_ like she’d never tried to break their soulbond. Like she actually _wanted_ to be with him. Like she’d never wanted to cause him pain. 

And her name was Wanda Eisenhardt. It was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard. 

“I thought you were dead,” he told her. He was pretty sure he’d said that before he collapsed in a heap outside the coffee shop. But he wasn’t sure she’d understood what he’d meant. Carefully, he rolled over so that they were facing each other on the narrow cot. He knew he looked a right mess, but she was beautiful. Her brown hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her green eyes were as bright as polished jade. He began stroking her face, letting his thumb trace over her cheekbones and down the side of her jaw. Her skin was warm underneath his hand. 

“You said that,” she said, confirming what he’d thought. “But I still don’t understand. How could you think I was dead when you could still feel our bond?”

“Because I couldn’t. Because after…after that terrible moment, I couldn’t feel you anymore. I couldn’t feel you _at all._ It was all frozen.”

“So, you felt an explosion, and then nothing?”

“Not quite,” he grimaced. “First there was horrible pain. So bad that my friends called an ambulance for me and took me to Casualty. It was after being in hospital that I couldn’t feel you anymore. Interestingly enough, it was the same doctor who took care of me. Doctor Strange.” 

“What an odd coincidence, to have the same doctor.” Wanda said. “Do you think he did something so you couldn’t feel the bond anymore?”

Jonas thought back on that day, so many years ago but just as clear as it’d ever been. He remembered Dr. Strange saying that it was a disrupted soulbond, not a broken one, but Jonas had been so sure that his Angel was gone from him forever… “I think I might have done it.” 

Wanda sat up. “What?”

Jonas sat up too, bracing for pain and sighing in relief when none came. “I was only fourteen when it happened, and I remember being terribly frightened by it all. And the pain was really bad. I may have shut down our link to protect myself from that.” Suddenly he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I think I shut down our bond.”

“You chose a very bad moment to abandon me, Jonas.” 

Jonas nodded miserably. His soulmate had needed him _so badly_ and he hadn’t been there for her. He didn’t deserve her. He probably never had. No wonder she’d gotten herself a boyfriend. He hoped that whomever that man was, he was someone who would make her happy. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. “I should never have done it, and I wish to God I hadn’t. And I…I understand if you don’t want to be with me now because of it.” He could probably survive her leaving him. Dr. Strange could give him that medicine that would close his bond. He’d be fine, eve thought the idea of _not_ being with her felt worse than all the agony his soulbond had put him through. 

She lifted his chin until their gazes met. “I forgive you.” 

“Oh, thank God.” And between one breath and the next, they were kissing. He wasn’t’ sure who initiated it, but he knew damn well he wasn’t going to be the one to stop. Not when her mouth tasted like all the sweetness his life had been missing. Not when he could feel his soulbond smoothing out inside him, all it’s jagged turmoil turning to something soothing and calm. 

But he could feel more that just that. He could also feel _her._ The awareness of his mouth on hers, reflected back to him. Like an echo of sensation. 

She gasped against his mouth and he pulled back, eyes wide in wonder. He knew she’d felt it too.

“I can feel you,” she said in awe. “Like when we were children. I can feel you kissing me!” 

He touched her face, pads of his thumbs stroking away her tears. “I felt it,” he said. “I can feel you, too. _I can feel you!_ ” 

And then they were kissing again, hands exploring each other, trying to touch each centimeter of each other at once. He should’ve been embarrassed that the hospital gown he was wearing left his back entirely bare and his underpants showing, but all that he could think about was how good it felt to have her touching his skin, and how much he wished they both could be naked. 

There was an unmistakable screech of ungreased pullies as the curtain was pulled back. 

Wanda’s boyfriend was standing in the opening, taking in the sight of the two of them, bodies entwined, mouths bruised from their kissing. 

Jonas’ jaw firmed. He wished Wanda’s boyfriend no ill, but he’d lost his soulmate once. He’d be damned if he’d ever let anything take her from him again. 

“Pietro!” Wanda’s beautiful face brightened. “Come meet my soulmate!” 

Pietro stepped further into the small alcove. “So, you are this famous soulmate I heard so much about when Wanda and I were young.”

“Yes.” Jonas nodded sharply. He raised one eye-brow, trying to look as intimidating as possible while kneeling on a cot with his underpants showing. 

“Jonas,” Wanda said, nudging Jonas a little with her elbow. “This is my brother, Pietro. He’s my twin.”

 _Her brother?_ Her _twin_ brother? Jonas looked at Pietro, taking in the other man. He could appreciate that Pietro was as handsome as his sister was beautiful, and perhaps their eyes were the same vivid shade of blue-green, but other than that he couldn’t really see a resemblance. But it would certainly explain why she’d looked so comfortable with him at the Ball. Jonas finally remembered his manners. “Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand.

Pietro’s handshake was just shy of painful. “Likewise,” he said with a grin. His accent was stronger than his sister’s. “I’m interested to know where you’ve been for the last nine years.” Pietro sounded friendly, but Jonas could hear the edge in his statement. He wasn’t happy with how Jonas hadn’t been a part of Wanda’s life for nearly a decade and he was making sure that Jonas knew. That was fine. Jonas wasn’t very happy about it, either. 

Jonas was saved from replying by the fortuitous reentrance of Dr. Strange. The doctor looked over at Wanda and Jonas, who were still kneeling together on the hospital cot, their hands joined. “Glad to see your soulbond has sorted itself,” Dr. Strange said. “And as long as one of you doesn’t make a stupid decision to mess with it again you should be pain-free for the rest of your life.” He made a note on Jonas’ chart. “I’m discharging you home. Don’t come back again.” He left, white coat billowing out behind him. 

“I think I like Bruce’s bedside manner better,” Pietro said into the silence that Dr Strange had left in his wake. “I’ll let you get changed.” He went out.

“You can go home!” Wanda said, delighted. Reluctantly, she slid off the cot and slipped her boots back on. “I’ll give you some privacy so you can get dressed.”

The last thing that Jonas wanted was for Wanda to leave, but he didn’t know if he should ask her to stay. He wasn’t sure he had the right to ask that. They’d just met, after all. Wasn’t it a bit early for her to see him dressing? “Thank you,” he said instead. He slid off the cot himself. The floor was terribly cold beneath his bare feet. 

“Your feet are cold,” Wanda said, wonder in her voice. 

Jonas couldn’t help it. He went to her, putting his hands on either side of her face, getting lost in the jewels of her eyes. “You can feel that?”

She nodded, gaze fastened on his. “You’re so handsome,” she said softly. “I never imagined you’d be so handsome.” 

He blushed. “I’m glad you think so. But I pale in comparison to how beautiful you are.” 

That made her smile, but then her face fell. “How could you?” she said. 

He stiffened, waiting for the rush of pain that sentence usually brought. But this time there wasn’t anything, just a sense of guilt and sadness through their bond. “How could I what?” 

“Forgive me?” Wanda bit her lip. “How could you possibly forgive me after I caused you so much pain? It was my fault that you were in hospital today. After I broke through the bond—”

“Hush,” he said, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “There’s nothing to forgive.” 

“But you were in so much pain!”

“Because I shut down the bond. If I hadn’t done that there wouldn’t have been any need for you to force your way through it.” 

She hugged him, pressing her body flush with his. Her forehead pressed against his neck. “I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Jonas said. “But I did. I hurt you for nine years. How can you forgive me for that?” 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Wanda repeated what he’d said moments earlier. “You were a child. Scared and in pain. You never meant to hurt me.” 

“And I never will again,” Jonas said. He held her tightly, hand buried in her hair. She fit perfectly in his arms. “I will love you forever,” he whispered, feeling the certainty, the _rightness_ of the Words as he said them to her. Love blazed through their soulbond, like it was meant to be. “Just tell me when to start.” 

“Now,” Wanda said. “Start now, because I’m already in love with you. I never stopped.” 

There was a noise from the other side of the curtain. “Are you dressed yet?” Asked Pietro.

* * *

“Is this you?” 

They were lying together on Jonas’ bed in the rental flat given to him by Stark Industries. He had his laptop balanced on his thighs where he’d been showing Wanda the photos he’d taken of the charity Ball. She’d been helping him decide which photos to send to Ms. Potts when she’d gasped and pulled out her phone, immediately opening up her Instagram. 

She was showing him ‘Vision’s’ Instagram page, full of melancholic images of London in subdued colours. He sat up.

“Yes.” Gently he took the phone from her, looking at the photos in wonder. He remembered taking every photo; the time he’d spent editing and colouring them just right until they captured exactly the mood he wanted. How he’d spent years mourning his soulmate. Feeling so desolate, so sad and alone. 

“I found your account by accident,” Wanda said. “But once I found it…It was like I knew you already. It was like you knew how I felt.” 

“I’m glad you liked it,” Jonas said inanely. “I was fairly sad when I took a lot of those photos.” 

Wanda nodded. “The photos from the Ball are much happier, but I still recognize your style. This one’s my favourite.” She scrolled to an image of a little girl in a pink jacket staring through a fence at the London Eye. Her longing was palpable and once-upon-a-time had represented everything he’d felt he’d lost in the world. 

“You’re favourite, eh?” Jonas tried to make his tone light, but looking at the photos was reminding him of what his life had been like before. When his bond was closed and he was sure his perfect soulmate was dead. 

Of course, she sensed it. He had an armful of loving, warm and _alive_ soulmate a moment later. “I missed you so much,” Jonas murmured against her hair. “Every second of every day.” 

“I think you had it worse,” Wanda said, lips caressing his neck as she spoke. “I didn’t understand why I couldn’t feel you anymore, but at least I knew you were alive.” 

“I never want to be apart from you again,” Jonas said. “I need you far too much.” 

“I will never leave you,” Wanda promised. “I will love you forever.” 

Jonas chuckled. “Isn’t that my line?” 

Wanda moved back so that she could look him in the eye. Slowly she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it off the bed. Her bra was a dark red colour that looked amazing against her pale skin. Her expression was pure seduction. “Don’t you want me to tell you when to start?”

Jonas put his computer on the floor.


End file.
